There are so many things I want.

I want to run and hide from insurance agents. I want to file my taxes on time. I want to be good and I want to be happy. I want the same for my family and my friends and even for people I don’t know. I want to share the sun and the moon and the warm weather that has come my way. I want to share my flowers and herbs. I want to be foliaceous, but I don’t know how. And I want to be a star.
But if I can just be myself, maybe that will be enough. I don’t need to succeed, I don’t need to achieve and I don’t need to be liked. I just need to write and be courageous enough to share.
Sometimes, many times, it’s not easy. Because I’m haunted by thoughts that have nothing to do with my writing. Thoughts about 6,000,000 that perished continue to lace my thoughts with streaks of darkness and pain. And I think why.
Why them? Why me? Why anyone? Is there any sense to this universe?
And I think about the cloudy days. The greyest days of the year, when it seems like a blue sky or sun don’t exist. But I know that they do; above the grey, gloom and cold. They’re just hiding. And perhaps after the Holocaust the Jews that survived the horrors could have lost their faith in the goodness of humanity. And perhaps they could have lost their faith in G-d. But they too – the goodness of humanity and G-d – they too were hiding. Just like the sun.

And I go on wanting. My silly wishes, meaningless, or are they? I can’t have perfection. Because I am human and I am flawed. But perhaps, if I can be myself that will be enough. That will mean something.