nothing to say #3

So this is the third draft of something. I don't know what. I know that I have a desire to say something. But my mind is empty. Sometimes if I just sit down and write, I figure out what it is, but I admit I have no confidence this will be the case tonight.
The light outside at around five o'clock reminds me of something. There are a million stories or more from November. The last of the dark leaves dry up on the trees in my neighborhood, and every corner holds a memory. It has been a long time since I have seen it with my eyes open. I am here now, and I am not sure I am taking advantage of it the way I promised myself I would when I was far away.
I admit that I forget how magical this all is. I slip once in awhile, and I lose perspective of how fortunate I am to be here. These little insignificant distractions are just enough sometimes to take my eyes away from my gratitude. I get to breathe this air into me! I get to kick these leaves on these sidewalks!
I may have been born into this, but I can't pretend to deserve it. I try to, but when I think about all that is available to me, it takes my breath away. Once in awhile I catch a glimpse of someone who seems to be thinking the same thing. That is when I know I am alive.
I have these friends. Some of them are hurting. Some of them I can help. I get to know amazing people. We write each other in to our stories, and we try to keep writing. It is easy when the sound is turned down for a little while. I am trying to take all the narratives to the same place. I am trying to pull my reverence into my job, my driving, my personal interactions. I am not to that point yet. But my friends help me remember.
I have the fortune to work with a few of them. And without being able to talk to them, I would lose my way. What would I be without my friends?
So I am pretty sure this is still about nothing. I haven't really maintained any kind of consistency in this thing. I hope I have clarified something to myself, if not to anyone else. I am getting to know myself a little these days. After years of avoiding myself, I am not really sure what I was so scared of for all those years. I cringe a little bit about who might read this far, but if you have, I am not ashamed. I don't mind letting you know me a little too.