It is said that familiarity breeds contempt. I’m not there …. yet. But I know that, in my experience, familiarity certainly has bred a cautious nature. I don’t like it. With each new episode of past memory, the brick and mortar grows ever-higher. I find myself hiding behind the wall in an effort to find protection from what I’ve come to know by heart. And yet … I allow myself the slightest hope that this time will be different, because ….

the good is oh, so good ….

but the other is …. oh, so familiar.

Such is life.