I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. Bloggers say you need a niche. I don’t have a niche. Tarot. Maybe. I like throw my fair share of cards. Humor. Maybe. I think I’ll just let it morph. Let it become whatever it’s meant to be become organically. Yes. It’s early Sunday morning and its so quiet. The little glass windchime with its tinkling sounds gently breaking up the silence in the breeze of the ceiling fan. I’m just me. A newly empty nester. A single parent of an only child. The daughter of an aging mother recently deceased. When you’re someone else to everyone else and everyone else is now gone.. Who are you now?