Storylife
When I was a child and frightened at night or couldn’t fall asleep, I made up stories. I still do.
When I was a child and frightened at night or couldn’t fall asleep, I made up stories. I still do.
Okay. I’ve been rewriting this blog post all week because it keeps sounding too negative and depressing. I think a lot of what I’m thinking and feeling comes from aging and feeling all the possibilities move out of reach in so many areas of my life. It’s hardest at work, where most people are younger…
“Try again. Fail again. Fail better.” — Samuel Beckett One can strive to make changes in their life at any time of year, but a new year seems to bring with it the promise of another chance to do this year better. My head has been pinging around like a pinball game. Remember those? So…
I am reading The Gift of Years: Growing Older Gracefully by Joan Chittister, a book about “becoming” after retirement. Much of what I’ve read so far is about the freedom that comes from being outside the corporate world, where image matters so much. But I’m still in that world…
It was my birthday today. I kind of think of birthdays as similar to New Year’s Eve, a time to reflect on where I’ve been since my last birthday and where I’m going, and whether I’m going where I want to go, which made me start thinking about wolves, packs of wolves. Stay with me,…
Sometimes, looking back at how I’ve changed in the past few years, I feel like I’ve finally grown up and become an adult. Not that this means that I don’t still make mistakes (I am the Queen of Mistakeville). It doesn’t mean that I’m not silly or childlike at times.
I’ve started out writing so many different posts for this week. I’ve judged them too long, too personal, or too heavy. But I’ve decided to commit the crime of all three and hope that some part of this makes sense to someone. The photos are of wildflowers that I saw while walking in the woods…
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Maery Rose….I love your story!