Exile

 I'm not particularly a Taylor Swift fan.  I know she has QUITE the following, and I am glad that she is so motivational and inspirational for so many people; we all need someone to admire. 

I heard a snippet of this song on TikTok (repository of all sorts of fragments of media), and did not realize at first that it was Taylor Swift. By the time I'd listened to the whole song, it had crept under my skin in a way that none of her other songs ever has before. 

So I'll add this one to my pop culture/music repertoire, and now will be able to chat with Swifties meaningfully, should the occasion arise. 

Exile, featuring Bon Iver.

Myrtle

 Herself speaks.

Where have I gone?

I am so wrapped up in an all-consuming project that I have undertaken -- let us call it the Orange Project -- and it occupies so much of my time and my thoughts, that there hardly seems to be any moments left for me to contemplate anything else. 

I like the Orange Project. It feels very worthwhile, as if I am doing something meaningful. It is a two-year project; I can do anything for two years. I have done harder things, for longer. 

Sometimes, when I am driving from point A to point B and have fifteen minutes to myself, I enjoy a few non-Orange thoughts. 

I think about my Offspring. I miss them. I hope they are doing well in their own unique lives that they have established for themselves. Is it a sign of success as a parent, to be no longer needed? They are such lovely people, and I am tremendously proud of them. 

I think about Cherished Friend. It is still a grief for me that he lives Oceanside. I miss the mundane aspects of friendship -- running errands, having lunch on the occasional weekday, going for a walk. Cooking a bit extra at mealtimes, to give to him. Listening to him and Beloved Husband discuss politics on the back patio. Scrabble. These pieces are the ones that ultimately, I enjoy most. 

I think about my lovely Daddy. Just the other day, for the first time ever, that feeling of "I really must call Daddy to say hello" crossed my mind, as if my brain had temporarily forgotten that he is dead. And then my brain remembered, and was embarrassed, and sad all over again. 

I think about what I would like the future to look like, and I cannot imagine it at all. When did I stop having dreams? 

Maybe I didn't really stop. Maybe my dreams are just metamorphosing.

To allow them to fully spread their wings, I need to let go of the fruitless longings that hold me back. 

I cannot change other people. And I cannot make them care for me in the way I care for them. 

I can, however, be myself, and give as I like, but without exhausting my own resources. I am not The Giving Tree.  

I shall aim to be like the myrtle.

And there are those who give and know not pain in giving, nor do they seek joy, nor give with mindfulness of virtue; They give as in yonder valley the myrtle breathes its fragrance into space.

-- Kahlil Gibran, On Giving

Quietly

 When someone does not like celebrating a birthday, what do I do?

I try to be as unobtrusive as possible, but still mark the day, because it's important to me: it is the day someone close to my heart arrived here on the planet. And one day, in the fullness of time, we met, and my live was changed infinitely for the better. 

Walking the line, quietly. Happy birthday. 

Almost There

It's been ten days since that first feeling in the back of my throat appeared, and eight days since the first positive COVID test (this time). There is just the teeeeeniest line appearing at the test line now - the kind of line that can hardly be captured in a picture and that, if I saw it a week ago, I would have thought SURELY THAT CAN'T BE A THING, and tested again the following day to be sure. 

I still sound congested and am, as usual, retaining a post-illness cough, but at least I have made it to the other side. 

I am not thinking about the possible long-term damage that this as-yet-not-fully-understood virus may be causing, because what can I do about that? Nothing. Some people develop cardiac issues, or long COVID, or lung issues. Some people are fine. I have so many little health wierdnesses, that I am placing no bets - just crossing my fingers that all will be well. 

On we go. 

Third Time's The... Charm?

Well.... f**k.