Over the last few years I’ve been on a hell-of-a-ride that, by a whisker, I live to tell their tale. The reason I begin my blog this way is to inform that not even the word grateful depicts how I feel to be alive: in the truest sense of that word—living. In the before I was appreciative; now I know life to be in the hands of each moment. Sure, I still plan and anticipate and hope because, well because I’m here. Yet, the feelings behind the words hell-of-a-rideare still brittle. When they strengthen I’ll tell their story.
Today follow me into the Aging Mirror… At my age I tend not to look into any mirror, let alone one with the word aging in it. But in spite of this confession, stick with me because I have a feeling we will both learn something. First I must set the stage for my mirror: Father Time and Circumstances. The Supporting Actors: experience, knowledge, right place/wrong time, troubles, second chances and intentions.
My childhood: Italian Father/English Mother and the associated forty-two first cousins may make clear my mad desire to record/write/blog whatever I observed or experienced. My first writings are in a red plastic diary with a small silver key and today books and blogs and life stories. When young I took no notice of time fleeting. But these days I ask Mother Earth to slow the milliseconds without upsetting gravity.
As to looking into the aging mirror these days; well that is a Horse of a Different Color. As Dorothy discovered in the Wizard of Oz she’d had the choice to return to Kansa all along; just a click of her Ruby Red Slippers. The analogy here for me is that when I look into the aging mirror these days I too have an option. I can choose to look away from what time has created or I can look with admiration at the woman I’ve fought to become. It isn’t what I see in the mirror—it is instead what is reflected back.
December 2011: I wonder to myself: “Where is that time I thought I had before… You know of what I speak, I’m certain. Add to that The Christmas Season with its true meaning and its expectations of family gatherings, and soon I’m overwhelmed with activities.
We had our Montera Christmas very early this year to accommodate our grown/growing children. Our father, 93 in good health, was here; an added blessing. This longstanding tradition is a Christmas Gift in the truest sense of those words. An opportunity to bring the past and the future together; compliments of our children and grandchildren. I sometimes wonder if they need us any longer; well, until they smile or stop to hug me for no particular reason. It is then I recognize that tiny tot I held so long ago still exists in my deepest remembrance. It’s also a reminder to me that my “Bucket List” becomes less and less of a joke and more of an intent. That Old Father Time tracks us as much as love and fear and joy and sorrow.
During a brief spell in the festivities, my nephew Christopher helped “cast” me deeper into social media. A place I needed to go, but without his parachute it would have been suicidal to do on my own. So, here is my pitch: Check out my Blog; Novel Prelude; Writers: Facebook; Technorati; you get the idea. It is a great feeling to know enough to generate new works and also to acknowledge that I should not exceed my knowledge of the moment.
MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE: “A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to You” was the verse that was shown on the first commercially available Christmas card in 1843. Christmases had been merry long before that though. The use of ‘Merry Christmas’ as a seasonal salutation dates back to at least 1565, when it appeared in The Hereford Municipal Manuscript.” An artifact that reminds me, as does Father Time, that traditions are the fabric of life around the world…Janet