Living on the Edge

A blog. I want a blog to create a home for my wandering self to be a writer a chronicler, caravan traveller & seventy year old woman.
I am not really a caravan traveller but the idea of moving around without an actual home appeals to me.
There you have it. I am seventy. Every one I know who was born in 1950 ( those who remain on the planet) turned seventy in 2020. I am grateful getting older isn’t a punishment imposed for eating too many bang bad habits
Perhaps I suffer from ageism. I don’t know. But I am adjusting to this milestone birthday took place in October. I know how fortunate I am to be alive.
In 2003 my thirteen year old niece died from an allergic reaction. At the time, she was writing short fiction, some of it fan fiction. She was a passionate & engaged young woman. She recommend I try to write fan fiction.
I have a copy of the last story which was titled a Girl named Bob and a boy named Anne.

I am yet to write fan fiction. But have written a few times about my niece for Allergy magazines and the like.

When she ten years old, I helped her make a radio documentary for CBC’s now defunct Outfront. At the time she was the youngest producer listed on their website. She was wearing a plush snake she bought at the Science Centre around her neck

When I was younger, I took chances & risks with my life. Often without a clue I was living on the edge. My niece took risks that moved her forward. Putting her writing out there, subject to raves or mad criticism. The last summer if her life she went to theatre school & performed in a play she & her classmates wrote. She didn’t take chances with her allergies.
I have had many years more than she. I am reluctant to write her name. I don’t know why.

In this blog, I want to just put myself out there. All seventy years of me. So here I am.

Her name was Sabrina.

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