|Seventy years ago|
Blog writing is the creation of my open letters to the world, sometimes with harsh assessments and sometimes with benign rumination. It's an avocation, maybe an obsession, noting all the blogs I've started. Now I've consolidated them all into this one, which will encompass my adventures in my new home. I haven't moved there yet, but in my mind I'm furnishing all the rooms and batting around in them making changes and seeking furniture. I've made a stab at meeting people, and look forward to establishing a presence in a new place.
I'll let my hair evolve to its natural tint and say "This house has turned my hair grey!" as I see the looks on faces of people who forgot that I'd started coloring it in 2007. I'll get involved as I can in the local amateur theatre group and continue to work with Rosendale's indie cinema. I'll turn the TV off as much as possible and stay away from Facebook so that I can focus on things that matter more in the long run. I'll adhere to the diet and stop talking about it. I'll give my next book a real shot and stop fretting about it (I started a book and then one day just dropped the project as my mind couldn't grasp the enormity of the concept I had laid out.) Before my next birthday I'll at least be able to put my finger on how to proceed.
I've come to accept that we simply don't know what's ahead. I have a couple of grandsons and a daughter who light up my life, and I look forward to watching them all surprise me with their choices and their stories.
Contemplating the meaning of life is a tradition on my birthdays. I decided to check out some old blog posts I'd made on this date in years past, and came upon this anecdote from 2006:
"Visiting my mother in the nursing home yesterday, I said to her, 'Mama, tomorrow I'll be 66 years old.' She was quiet for a moment and I wondered if she understood, or even heard me. Then she said, 'If you weren't so young, you'd be old!'"
I will do what I can to stay that young for a few more years.