I have not written for nearly 2 years. And in this post I am supposed to somehow catch up and mention something wonderfully, crazily new. I stopped writing because I was mourning the death of my constant companion and beautiful golden retriever, Truman. I tried to cheer myself and found myself instead feeling more and more alone. In the meantime, I have adopted Bucco, who is nothing like Truman. And I adopted one-eyed Junie who is a terrier mix with a giant ruff of fur and a walk like Dolly Parton scurrying in stilettos. She trusts no one, hardly puts up with me, and does not throw herself on me, tongue lolling, and reinforce with every breath that I am loved. My 17 year-old mini-dachshund has begun the slow spiral toward the end of her days. A good friend died far too young. A long-time former paramour died a preventable death. Neither died from COVID. Mice invaded my house, destroyed a bunch of stuff and peed on other stuff. It was not my preferred method for paring down my belongings. I tried being nice but in the end became a reluctant executioner. I spent a lot of time feeling exhausted. Loss is tiring.
A monster I helped to cage emerged from prison and is living free. That rattled me for a while. It still does. But it prompted me to do a Google search.
What happens when you keep a promise to The Universe aka god or goddess aka The Great Whatsis. I kept the promise to keep the monster caged for as long as possible. That turned out to be 25 years. I did all I could do. Google responded to my question with over 4 million responses addressing what happens when you break a promise to The Universe aka god or goddess aka The Great Whatsis. So, I thought about it and meditated. I lit a couple of candles and aimed my brain waves at the sky and came to the conclusion that if you keep a promise to The Great Whatsis what happens is anything you choose. Anything. You. Choose. I am still trying to digest that because it is SO big.
Since then, I have tested the notion of Anything. You. Choose. There was a risky good decision (final hernia repair including 4-day hospitalization in the middle of a pandemic). A risky poor decision (one that helped someone with her life but pulled off the veneer of our relationship and ended our friendship). And a very conscious decision. Every day now ends with a list of things for which I am grateful. Every day now begins with gratitude for life and an affirmation that I am making good choices.
The pandemic has reinforced the knowledge that I am comfortable in my own skin, that I like the company I am in when alone. It has polished the relationships with people I cherish. I read more and want less screen time. I’ve actually worked on some art pieces (and left them half-finished). I downloaded the Retirement Countdown that provides a positive quote every day. It also informed me today that I have one year, 3 months, and 11 days until retirement. That app makes me smile and smile. I have chosen to set a goal of zero frivolous spending for 2021. Life going forward will include more iced water and less iced tea. And I’ll tell you this: It’s better to live with your long, wavy, kind-of-out-of-control hair than have it cut by a stylist who hasn’t been able to cut hair for a year. Trust me on this one.
That pretty much condenses the time away from the keyboard. I plan to keep writing and hope someone will read this as it goes forward.
PS: I’ll be 67 in February. This is far too old to get zits; but, last Friday there was a glaring one on my chin. How is that even possible? Also last Friday I made another Anything. You. Choose. choice–I bought a 101 year-old house in New Mexico. For retirement. Sight unseen. Hello, future.