I talk to things. Ever since I fell in love with my sweet, funny little dog, I talk to things. I talk to animals as if they could talk back to me. Flowers, too. Roses in particular. “You beautiful things. You are so gorgeous.”
Is it because I’m strange? Maybe.
Senile? Possibly.
Old? I can’t deny that one.
I have finally slowed down enough to look around and see the beauty of God’s earth. I talk to Him, too. I thank Him for all the creatures great and small, and all the bright and beautiful things He has made for me to enjoy.
I am old. I am blessed, and I talk to things.
