I could write about whatever

 Even when the page is blank and my fingers hover over the keys, I remind myself there is always something to write about. I could write about the beautiful sunrise this morning or the star-filled night sky. I could write about my next-door neighbor, most likely sleep-deprived, pacing back and forth on the porch as she tries to lull her baby to sleep, as she keeps singing to her child in a soft mother's voice.

I could write about my grandson's visit the other day, dumbfounded by how tall he has grown and his plan for his future. We would look through pictures from when he was just a wee bit of a thing, as I looked at his expressions of remembrance and happiness.
I could write about the loss of a good friend recently, but my tears are dried now, I think. I did write something the day I learned of her death, but that's tucked away in a special collection I've written over time and don't share.
I could write about all the love I've had and all I've given, subtle reminders of my life and its blessings. I could write about all the places I've traveled and endless roads I've thundered down, the sound of my Harley music to my ears. Sunday rides going from one bar to another, always a brotherhood of bikers there to greet me with a cold one.
I could write about my youth, my adulthood, and now old age, each part of me as was the plan from the beginning. I can indeed write about anything, with plenty of topics all boiled into a pot of words waiting for me to tap a key.
Mike  2026