You weren’t seeing things, recently, when you read my Frank Reflections column. That’s right, I’m back – every other week.

Some of you were avid followers of my work, during the ten-plus years that I originally had the privilege of writing for The Bulletin. You know what makes me tick, and how it is that I kept on ticking after nearly losing my life from a severe head injury.

Those of you who don’t know the story, it’s not that I don’t want to tell you what happened. There just isn’t enough room in this newspaper.

You don’t know that injury left me legally blind in both eyes, partially deaf in the right ear and with a permanent equilibrium issue.

You don’t know that is how and why I went back to college and got my degree in Journalism. Speaking of my vision, if you wave to me or nod to me, or extend your hand to shake mine, and I don’t acknowledge you, it’s because I don’t see you, unless you are in my precise field of vision. I only have vision in the upper right quadrant of each eye. It’s also why you see me walking, all the time; I can’t drive.

Yes, life threw a stumbling block in my path. It was up to me to decide if it would be a permanent boulder, or a stepping stone. I focused on what remained, not what I had lost. Faith, family and friends led the way.

One of the places God took me, years ago, was to Hynes Field, to watch our daughters’ soccer game. On the sidelines Dennis Cawley, one of the original publishers of The Bulletin, handed out flyers announcing a new newspaper was coming to the Parkway. I took one and asked Dennis if he had any openings for a columnist.

Dennis told me to send him samples of my writing. I sent him a couple of “clips” from my portfolio, including a piece from BOSTON Magazine. The rest is history.

My work in The Bulletin made you happy, angry, overjoyed and underwhelmed. Two of my favorite pieces had to do with readers who reached out to me because, in their words, I had the “courage to write” their stories.

One of them was a victim, as a youngster, of sexual abuse by a priest. He was brave to come forward because he and his family were widely known throughout Boston.

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He said he didn’t want to sue anyone. “I just need to get this off my chest. It’s smothering me, and I believe you’ll tell the truth and be fair, Frank.”

His attacker was eventually defrocked. The pastor of his parish even thanked me. “You could have killed us, Frank, and you didn’t.”

It had nothing to do with me, and everything to do with the victim’s courage and his pursuit of justice.

He later wrote me a note that made me feel beyond grateful that I could help him. I knew then that money can’t buy what his words meant to me. Writing is its own reward.

Sometimes, you might wish I would go away; other times you’ll be glad I am here. No matter what, I promise to try to bring you great community stories. I always keep my word. If you speak with me, for a story, and you wish to remain anonymous, I will never give you up.

Two notes of interest: First, I am not related to this paper’s owner, Jeff Sullivan. Second, if you’d like, send your feedback or column suggestions to sullwriteontimenow@gmail.com.

As always, feel free to send a Letter to the Editor.