It’s our 9-year wedding anniversary today and it’s been tough. I had hoped to be out at a fancy restaurant, sipping a glass of wine. I was REALLY looking forward to our 10th anniversary because I figured 10-years was worthy of taking a big trip — Hawaii, Ireland, Spain, a Mediterranean cruise — I shouldn’t have put it off.
My friend B sends me a number of encouraging cards. One of the recent ones had a quote from Zora Neale Hurston,
“There are years that ask the questions and years that answer.”
To that I would add,
“There are years to try on new things and see how they fit.”
I promise, I won’t really try this new hairstyle…
I could come up with a long list of things I’d like to do, and actually I have done exactly that. But I read it and it feels empty. Such a bunch of on-the-surface, goals, dreams, and happiness malarky.
Ya know what I really want? I want to spread love. Oh, now I sound like a hippy. But really, in March I had been having this epiphany and was feeling overwhelming love for people, people I previously didn’t even like, annoying people.
I don’t know where this feeling came from, but I was looking forward to a summer of loving everybody. I was planning on having family, old friends, new friends, maybe people on the street out to our house. And I was going to entertain and cook and bake and there’d be music and dancing.
You have to understand, this is not like me. I’m shy and reserved.
But then the floor dropped out from under me and here I am. The problem now, is re-lighting the spark. And wondering what I have to give. There won’t be a pool. Or horses in the back yard. Or all the other stuff I have now that I wanted to share. There’s just me and that doesn’t seem like much.
But it’s something. I know it is. I know what it is to hurt. I know what it is to be lonely. I know what it is to lose hope. And with that understanding and compassion, perhaps I can do something to make a difference, not a huge, save-the-world difference, but a little difference anyway.
So how’s this for an “About Me”?
My Dad was a real cowboy. But not me. I was given up for adoption and raised in the suburbs. But what makes a person a real cowboy or a real cowgirl? Guts, that what! And I have plenty of those.
I am on my own again, after nine years of marriage. I’m breakin new trails, riding my trusty steed, with my sidekick, Java at my side. I thank God for friends and family and all the blessings in my life.
I hope you’ll settle back with a good cup of coffee (or tea for you healthy, calm types) and enjoy the story as it unfolds. It’s a mystery, sure to be full of drama, surprises, a few tears, new experiences, and lotsa laughter.