I talked to my dad today. He can walk and talk and he was asking about buying a sailboat. He could sail it if he wanted.
I have tried most everything I know to replace being on the water and there's just not anything. Don't get me wrong, I love my son and WB is okay but I would be less of a person if I kept staying on dry land. Soon I would dry up to dust. I'd like to save that for the day when my soul is no longer on Earth and that thing known as my body melts into the dirt.
For someone I don't know in celbration of their 50th birthday.
He writes a pretty good Blogspot blog.
I'm not sure if you'll see this comment.
First, happy birthday. The second half of a century seems to be different. Like going from adolesent to adult, we're finally far enough over into second phase of life to be past the "average experience".
Hmm, here's a challenge.
Can you express one experience today in one word? Will that word be inclusive enough so that I, a complete stranger, would understand not just the basic emotion but also specifics of the event.
For example, I can could use the word, "wet" to describe today because it did rain but I'm not sure if it's specific enough to ensure that the response would be atmospheric. After all the word "wet" could describe a sunny day at the beach or giving the dog a bath.
So there's the challenge from a complete stranger to celebrate their birthday.
I hope that the one word for a day this year is "bliss".
On Saturday mornings, I wake up, dress, drive, and then put my body through stuff.
I'm the oldest in the group. It's possible that I'm so old that I could be the mom to one or two of the fellas who teach the class. I know that I'm old emough to be the grandparent of the youngest. I'm writing this because of my dad.
My dad quit smoking when he was my age. He would tell us that the only way he did it was to say no to it. Self control. And he did quit for years and years until his 70's when he started smoking cigars. He'd sit out on the back porch and smoke. My mom complaining about it. I'd ask him why after years he went back to a habit which he swore to us was bad for our health.
"Because now I can."
This isn't an example of great writing. It's just a short hand reminder of what my obligations to this life are and are not.
And that life changes.
For years I was not able to sail a boat because I worried that, if I got hurt or if it were too expensive, I'd cause problems for my Pup.
Now like late Winter? I can feel Spring approaching and the strong strong urge to climb "mountains" that my family told me were not for me to climb.
And I left a friend.
A good friend who I could talk to at anytime. I once called him at 3am. I heard his sleepy voice on the other end of the line and half expected him to yell or hang up. He never did. Not until much later when we'd had our disagreement. Even then he didn't hang up. He didn't talk. He let me try to explain.
I tried but the obligations of my life were there.
Life chose for me.
The last time I mentioned this to my father, he told me that it was done. "The past is the past." he told me, "You can not go back. It's done." I know that he said that because he wants me to be safe. If it were up to him, I'd be happily puttering around the house. I tried. I'm not good at puttering.
WB is good at it but I'm not.
I've been trying hard to explain.
What I want to do is neither illegal nor immoral.
My obligations aren't the same as they were.
Note to self. In my Great Aunt's obit, it stated that she went fishing in Alaska in her 90's. She lived to be more than 100. She didn't die of old age or failing body. She died of a broken heart. Her best friend in the world died. No matter how many people talked to her, she felt in her heart that she was the "last dodo".
If I've learned anything from my Great Aunt's life it's that you make the choice to live your life. Yes, there may be realities but there are choices too.
I don't not have to ever be the "last dodo" but if I am the last of my kind? I shouldn't waste my time complaining about it.
I am a writer.
I have that on good authority from an actual publisher. The kind that produce really good books. They said it but I already knew it.
I am a disinherited, sometimes broke, wanna be writer and poet.
For almost three years, I spent mornings happily writing in my blog (avg views/month 8,000). Life was good. Then the blog landlords "pulled the plug" and "vamoose" no more blog.
Now I write. I live my life with dogs in the middle of a forest (kind of) and I Blog