A blank page...

It says NEW BLOG.... I click that button... a new page comes up... a blank page.  It is here.  Now.  Waiting for my fingers to start to click.  The keys on the keyboard.  Words rush through my mind... they come through my finger tips, putting words on this "paper"... this screen.  Words that come only from my mind!  MY mind. wow. Mind you, others have had similar thoughts, and sometimes I might think the very same thing that I see others have written... but when this BLANK PAGE appears, and the keys start to click, the words are only mine... MINE.... that come out... and make this blank page fill with WORDS... MY WORDS.  Amazing.  It is to me, anyway.... because my mind I've always felt was not "all that"... for lack of a better way to put it... I've never thought of myself as very smart, intelligent-wise, but I realize I'm not a dummy, either.  BUT STILL... when I see these words start to appear upon this page, I am amazed anew each time, a blank page appears.  Because I know that I can think!  And I can type, or write... whichever the case may be (but preferably type of late, it is so much easier and less painful on my old joints).  But my words come through my fingers, and appear upon a page, for me to read, and whomever else sees them and chooses to.  It is a real gift, one I've always taken for granted, or not thought alot about anyway... I figure everybody can write, but some folks tell me "nooo I cannot., not me".  They just don't realize that they can.  But there are those of us, who just HAVE to write, whether we think we can or not.  We just do.  Oh yes, there are "dry spells" when we seem to be unable to put word-one on said blank page. But I think we really only think of them as such. I am thinking right this minute, that "gee wish now I had written more over these past years, what was I waiting for?:  Well, there were a few years that I did have two daughters to help raise, and lawd there are alot of things that go into raising children, no matter which gender they are.  It takes a big part of your TIME, and you think... I do not have the luxury to sit and write.  So I didn't... many times.  Once in awhile, for a few years, or so, I would wake in the early, early morning, get my coffee, pen, and paper (of many various kinds, or journals, notepad, whatever...they are everywhere.  Thus, a REAL PLUS to have said laptop and a BLOGSPOT to come to now!)... okay, where was I?  Oh yes, I would take my coffee and "writing tools" and head out to the deck out back where I could listen to the birds as they would awaken, in the still quietness of the morning, when I was hoping most everyone else was still asleep... and alot were, maybe some up and getting ready for their day.... but many times on the week-end I had a good bit of QUIET TIME out there.... it was lovely.... The sky would turn from gray gradually to a shade of  blue, then the sun would start to come up and the dew would start to dry out... and the birdies would sing a little louder, or more of them would wake up and get going, and I would write as I sipped my coffee, and enjoyed that time of day, alone, only with my thoughts, and my coffee and my pen and paper, and the birds and the trees... Not that I ever thought that the words I would write would be earth-shaking or life-changing... sometimes I would kind of be "guarded" because I would think, I don't want anyone to ever read this, and think I was crazy, or off-my-rocker, or possibly "over the edge", as some of the stuff my early writing might sound like I was... but gee I really didn't want anyone to read those words. But I continued to put pen to paper and the words came out.  The ones I never wanted anyone to read maybe got trashed, or something.  Some may still be hanging around in some dark dusty box somewhere, and if anyone finds them, and don't really like what I wrote, they can choose not to read it, and can think anything of me that they want... I most likely will not be there to care anymore anyway.  If it were someone reading them, who loved me, I would hope they would sift those words with care, and know that they were just words, my words, and move along.  Maybe toss them in the trash, then if they will. Not to worry, not there no mo' so it's all good.  But then if they read something they liked, and/or wanted to keep all the better.  The words are there, the words are here... saying just what is coming through my mind, out my fingers, onto these keys... typing letters one by one, making words, my words, my thoughts... onto a blank page.  Wow.