I looked in my car’s rearview mirror one afternoon last week and barely recognized myself. Looking back at me was a woman that indeed looked closer to 50 than 30. I didn’t want to believe it, but the wrinkles around my eyes conceded the truth.
When I look at the totally of my face in the mirror, I’m not as alarmed. Perhaps it’s my ego selectively focusing on more shapely areas. Or maybe the lower half of my face compensates for the upper half. But in that instant in the rearview mirror, when it was just my eyes looking back at me, the truth was laid bare. More
Since I lost my job in March, I have been compelled to work in our yard, beginning with digging out the blackberry bulbs that I missed last summer. It seemed like a positive way to deal with the mixed emotions I was feeling. I don’t know what the future holds, but I know I need to move forward, starting with completing several projects around the house. If I trust my head, I don’t know much of anything, but in my gut, it felt like an opportune time to get my house in order. More
Over the past several months my relationship with Polina has really been tested. I love her more than anything, and that is the truth. But there have also been times where she has challenged me to my core. The main culprit is usually sleep. At 4.5 years, Polina reliably naps 2 hours daily in addition to 10 hours nightly. Anything less than her daily regimen of 12 hours of sleep per day and it comes out in her behavior. I love that she naps and gives me time to myself. I am at heart an introvert and need time by myself to replenish my reserves. But sometimes this rigid nap schedule can get in the way of my agenda, and when I choose the latter I have no one to blame but myself.
On my desktop, I have a quote from Stephen King: “Amateurs sit and wait for inspiration, the rest of us just get up and go to work.” It’s been on a post it note on the top left hand corner of my desktop for months. I read it every time my computer turns on. Yet, as my post timeline indicates, I haven’t worked on my writing as much as waiting to be inspired.
And just like that, she was gone. I opened my email this late afternoon to find a message from my stepfather sent mid-morning. My grandmother, his mother, had passed away suddenly and peacefully. Actually, the email read, “relatively quickly and without pain.” When you read an email like that, the words kind of blur.