October, 2021

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Day 299

Lucy and I drove to the vet this morning in a drizzle rain, the colors of fall popping along the roadside, her nose resolutely out the window, even as she (and the Jeep) got wet.  The sky looked ominous, dark, swirling, thick grey. It felt like the perfect, stormy fall morning.  I loved every second of it and thought about how small the moment was in the grand scheme of my life.

Which brought me to the fleeting nature of existence, how small things make up all the big things — small triumphs, small beauties, small moments of happiness.  It isn’t about the next big thing … it’s about all the little things that happen along the way to the next big thing.  The nuances and rhythms of life.  The blending of smoothies and guzzling of water, the unending laundry pile, the doctor appointments and the insurance payments.  All of those things make up the big picture, like pointillism in art.  Small together makes large.

John bought tickets this morning to see a re-release of “Rocky IV” in the theatre next month.  We’d talked about it and he’d been of two minds; but I knew it was under his skin, something he wanted to do without a specific reason.  Just a feeling.  Nagging at him, circling back to him when he thought it had gone away.    It isn’t  playing at a convenient time or even on a convenient date  … but we will go and it will be wonderful.  Because life is about the small things — the small joys and shared moments.  Walks with Lucy in the rain and a good run of songs on Pandora … the recognition that we all have a finite amount of time here on Earth, in these bodies, with these people.

xoxo, g

Day 294

I love chilly mornings.  Waking up snuggled in bed, listening to the even breath of husby, the snurfling of Lucy Lou.  Knowing there is time before anyone moves, before the day begins.

Recently they ‘trimmed’ the trees along the road below our house and now, it sounds like a Nascar racetrack most early mornings, when the sun is just beginning to lighten the sky — deep blues and purples turning to grays and violets.

The sun rises from the behind the hills that we see from our bedroom windows.  A horizon of red and orange melting to pink and then corn yellow before opening up into a crisp blue-white morning.  Birds are chirping and life is humming.

It’s been a strange October … it’s been a strange year.  Nothing will ever be the ‘same’ again … we have irrevocably shifted course and we must acknowledge that and move forward within that  … even if it feels as though no one is on the same page.

Maybe it’s always been that way.  Maybe I’m only just seeing it now, as I come around the corner of ‘middle age’  … and begin to realize that nothing is as we were taught.  None of the rules mean anything.  No one knows what they are doing – no one.  We are all just making it up as we go.

I feel suspended in time, not quite here and not quite there.  Anticipating the future, mourning the past.  But not quite present.  I long to find the person I used to be but also, wonder if she even exists anymore.  It’s been a long time since March 2020 when the whole world changed.  It feels longer still since May 2020 when George Floyd died.  I cannot unsee what I have seen … and yet nothing has changed.  Isn’t that peculiar and also so indicative of our culture?  Disappointing.  Infuriating.  Exhausting.

I move through the day doing what I ‘should’ do … according to … I don’t know.  Me?  The world? Social media?

I read once that we are not who we think we are.  And we are not who other people think we are.  We are who we think other people think we are.

So does that mean we are self-imposing uncomfortable and unnatural guidelines to our lives?  How do we shake that overly layered and unnecessarily complicated filter?

I can tell you one thing – I do not know.

I know that I come here to speak to the void, but also to speak to anyone who stumbles upon this page and keeps reading.  I am speaking to the other curious people out there, feeling lost and looking for answers.

I do not think answers will ever exist.

And getting comfortable with *that* is the hardest task of all.

xoxo, g

 

 

 

Day 293

When I finally decided to get up this morning, I did it in one motion.  Blanket back, legs swung round, eyes bleary, body heavy, my torso suddenly vertical and painfully stiff.

I’ve been feeling heavy lately.  Without a particular reason why.  Maybe its Lucy’s tumor — now removed and tested and benign but the scab still healing and the cone still on.  Maybe it’s our newest little dream that we’re slowly willing into reality — a dream I hesitate to talk about in absolutes or write about at all.  Maybe it’s just being tired because life never does slow down — that moment of relaxation always just out of reach.

Today I went to physical therapy despite it being the last thing I wanted to do.  I signed up for yoga and promptly cancelled my booking.  I want to sit and feel the fall, feel the cool air slipping through the open windows, filling our home with a delightful chill that necessitates sweatshirts and fuzzy socks and blankets.

I want to take my dog for a walk in the autumn sunshine and come home to curl up and read a book.  I want to breath and think and try to let go of the desperate stress that pervades every corner of my world.

I do not want to adult or even human today.  I can’t bear small talk and niceties … discussing anything other than nothing.

I want to be alone.  To be quiet.  To write and read and be comfortable and comforted.

xoxo, g

Day 290

I recently became friends on social media with someone I haven’t seen or talked to in over ten years (if I’m being conservative).  Re-connecting in the virtual age has sent me into a tailspin of memories, thought patterns and regrets that have been uncomfortable … unpleasant.  And most importantly, unnecessary.

And it got me thinking.  Were we meant to stay in touch with all the people throughout our lives?  Were we meant to be reminded daily of who we used to be?  Reminded of the person we grew from, the mistakes we made…. Were we meant to stay stuck in a circle, in a box of who we once were?

I don’t think so.  I think social media has created a problem … not just with perfect lives and filtered photos, but with keeping us all stuck in one position, unable to move forward or change without the constant reminder of what once was.

In the end, I’ll probably end up un-friending this person because what does it serve to be connected, virtually, after years of growing into different people?  How am I served by seeing this person’s life but not having conversations?  Having this person see my life, without knowing the roads I walked to get here.

This is what I think about on five hour road trips through the changing colors of autumn.

xoxo, g