I’m writing this post on the heels of the wildest, roughest, most stress-filled, most heart-breaking, most paradoxically horrible and yet, still wonderful year I have ever experienced in my life.
Sadly, I am not at all inclined to detail any of it (which rather sucks for this blog, doesn’t it?).
Now 51, now a grandmother, soon to be a twice-over grandmother, settling into the warming, spreading enjoyment of Autumn both figuratively and literally.
It’s really extraordinary, that I am sitting here typing this at all. I wish it were possible to “mind meld” with you, precious reader, so you could fully, truly understand.
Then, I remember, you know and understand precisely what I’m speaking of because we all have “this life” with all its insanity and bizarre events and happenings, it is a wholly relative thing.
My chemicals, want me to crow of my qualities and how well I have overcome.
My mind cringes at my ego because it inventories and maintains the archives of missteps, mistakes, bad outcomes, burned bridges, wounded hearts, and the like I’ve left in my wake.
The reality that you have these things, too, is not a comfort, it is a sorrow. We are, in every way, a beautifully broken species.
If you’re reading this, whether I know you or not, I love you. Truly. I love that you exist. I love that you persist… insist… and yes, even that you, like I, am “so often” remiss.
If I can do nothing else in what remains of my life, I want to live as I always wanted to live: Calmly, peacefully, and with admiration and respect for others and the shared struggle we know as “life”.
I’d offer you a seat to join me, but it’s rather like dancing with a whirlwind of razors. So, instead, my apologies.
I love you still, as I can.