So the basement finally dried out.  Unless I can find someone to come and clean my gutters and replace the down spout on the back porch, we’ll have more water the next time it rains.

     I don’t do ladders and roofs.  I have trouble doing ladders inside the house much less taller ladders outside.  I have this fear of heights.  It wasn’t always with me, but it started during my early teen years and grew as got older.

     As a child I had no fear.  I would climb to the highest branches of the trees, clamber headlong  up rocky cliffs, and lean over the edges.  I didn’t fear death and dying, those words didn’t enter my vocabulary for a long time.

     I explored and experimented with plenty of things as I grew up.  Then one day, I learned to fear a little.  That fear grew with experience.

     I wish I were that child again.  I’d tell that first taste of fear to leave me alone along with all subsequent ones.  Then, maybe I’d enjoy climbing a ladder to the roof, maybe I wouldn’t have panic attacks and sweaty palms driving over high bridges and along cliff edges.

     You all have a good one.