Feeling my way, nakedly.

Keep telling myself that I’ve been blessed. For having lived well into my retirement years. Because it’s allowed me to pursue life the way it should be lived. Being myself. In rather unencumbered ways. Yes, to get it right. After my dear wife Jeanne died, I still had time for a second true love. An Italian. Here in Sardinia. And I’m writing. Exactly what I want to write. Unimpeded. This blog. Sort of daily newspaper columns. The kind I’d loved to have written when gainfully  employed as a journalist. Writing for newspapers. These broodings. It’s my grand experiment. And it’s working. To my satisfaction. Readership doesn’t matter.  I merely want to do it my way.  I had an inkling of what I wanted to do when younger. More of what I genuinely feel. Emotionally. Romantically. Soulfully. Best of all, I’m able to make a fool of myself. Without fear. Without being embarrassed. Feeling my way, nakedly. --Jim Broede