Today would have been my Hiero’s fourteenth birthday. He died last summer of cancer. I still have an ache, even though we’ve adopted crazy two-year-old Dargo to fill that place in our hearts and home.
Rest in peace, buddy, up in your favorite huckleberry patch. We miss your funny face.
What has this to do with writing? Nothing too much, except I do hope one day to write a series of children’s books inspired by ol’ Hiero. I have a pretty cool story situation, but the right plot hasn’t dropped out of the musey blue yet.
Maybe one day.
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