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