I am curious about her business card. Here is her name, Chelsea Winston, hair artist and pilgrim of life. Her phone number. Her email. And a blogsite, tited "my mother's keeper."
I will tell them later, but I am curious about her blog. Easy to find on my phone, but everything is easy to find on a phone these days, it contains absolutely everything, including my soul. We are all quiet for now in the van while the City of Vancouver whizzes past us. I really don't give a damn about this house that Carl wants us to look at, and as far as I'm concerned I am not moving anywhere and certainly not out to New Westminster. I really feel, and likely am behaving, like a sullen, pouty and balky child being dragged along by dad. not far really from some real childhood experiences. He seemed to always want to to have me along with him, and I often spent more time in the church with him than what might be considered healthy for a growing child.
I have decided to scroll down to Chelsea's first post. Two years ago, almost to the day.
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