When I was in high school I wanted to be a writer. To travel the world and drink wine in the wee hours and spend weeks with lovers who I didn’t understand all while wearing really expensive shoes. I wanted to weave stories about life and love and adventure that I’d seen with my own eyes. Some throw away words from a teacher about how often I became “wordy and a tad self-indulgent” gave me doubts. When I went to university, fully enrolled in the Creative Writing program, the thought of sitting through classes where my peers critiqued the words I’d poured over turned my doubts into fears. I quit. I focussed on someone else’s art. Years and years of someone else’s passion. I poured over it and let it fill me up. Still, with every step I take a story weaves itself in my head until my thoughts are full with a rich inner-dialogue from a narrator to the story of my life who sounds just like me. Last year I jumped fast on the overflowing Mommy-blogger bandwagon. It was an excuse to write, a way to feel less alone and a place to find the overwhelming peace that has always come with telling my story. I thank you all for listening. I hope that soon I can find something worth your attention again. It’s been too long since I’ve had a story worth telling. I pride myself on my love affair the silver linings of life and for the past few months those silver linings have receded so far my narrator got lost in the clouds. My inner voice went on a vacation with happiness, passion, self-respect, dignity. I could go on forever. They must have chartered a jet. Rented a whole hotel in Vegas. Like no other this year has been full of the most epic highs and the most devastating lows I hope to ever encounter. There is a story here I’m sure, but not one I’m willing to tell and certainly not the one I thought I’d be writing. The moral to this untold story? Today, for the first time in months I saw the silver lining and the briefest glimpse of my narrator through the clouds. I hope her travelling companions aren’t far behind.
Tomorrow would have been my first wedding anniversary. Instead I’m choosing to let it mark the beginning of my new life. My new year. My new chance. To promise myself to search around every corner for the pieces of myself that went missing until I feel whole again. To stare at the sun and play in the ocean and buy myself a pair of really expensive shoes. To make myself good again. To be myself again. The truth is, if it were just about me I could wallow in the darkness indefinitely, but this year has brought me the biggest reason to always find a silver lining. She’s been the best silver lining I’ve found.
The icon of my fresh start. Wonder. Adventure. Beauty. Gaia.
Yesterday’s post was a bit of a downer. I’m aware of this. In fact I went to bed feeling guilty for writing it because frankly I have a lot to be grateful for. I’m big on gratitude and although I don’t pray and my feelings on a higher power are undefined and find myself silently giving thanks throughout the day. I blame it on my mother who has always shouted “THANK YOU” to the heavens when she finds a good parking spot or a cart that doesn’t wobble. Anyway, at the risk of getting all Oprah early-two-thousand-and-something-ish I thought it was about time I got back to focussing on the good things.
1. Co-Bear
The dinner he made for my Dad and me. He came over with a cardboard box full of ingredients and left us with full tummies. Only my brother would serve the largest greek salad of all time, chicken with a mango-chipotle rub and orange ginger sauce and pasta with chickpeas and tomato sauce as a unified meal. It was delicious. When we were all finished he took Gaia for a walk while my Dad and I cleaned up. If I didn't know better I'd swear he was becoming a grown-up.
2. Kare-Bear
Our water week in which Gaia went for her first swim in the pool,
followed two days later by her first swim in the lake.
Even more exciting is our plans for more adventures to come. My mother makes sure we get out of the house to avoid us both going entirely crazy.
3. Ger-Bear
Watching the news with my Dad when the following commercial came on:
My normally deadpan father simply muttered “I hate those kids” and I laughed so hard things shot from my nose.
(Note: I love those kids and those commercials, but then again I can also do everything they can do and more while it still takes my Dad twenty minutes to send an email. You know what I’d like to see? How about “I’m a PC and I’m sixty-two”. That would be far more impressive.)
Going to the Farmer’s Market on Scarth this morning. We picked up a delightful broccoli-cauliflower hybrid that I’m fascinated with. Clearly Gaia is oblivious to its greatness.
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