They say a cat has nine lives. Well.....if I were a cat, I'm on #8. This new life is as unordered as the previous 7 were. I didn't choose the cards....they were dealt. Played 7 games (lives) and it isn't until the game is over that you realize what a good hand you had.
5 of the 7 games (lives) ended in what was perceived as a loss. But the cards were good....just not what I would have picked. And....in some sort of self-congratulatory way, I think I played them well.
So my 8th game.....I can no longer bluff. I no longer have a poker face. The cards I've been dealt are seen clearly on my face. But.....I will win this game. I'm a seasoned player now...
After this.....one game is left....one life.....but now I sort of feel like I have a young 19 year old boy looking over my shoulder, reminding me of lessons learned in Game 7.
The house is too quiet. Quiet seems to be what I notice. Someone sent me a note to say that when God called Dylan home, He whispered it so only Dylan could hear. Game 8 is very quiet...
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