I sit at my desk in the early hours of a new day and stare at a blank page here at my blog site. I know all the while that this sounds trite and over-done, the blank page, the stare, the lack of inspiration. I can't wait for my Muse much longer. My need to write something is great and I fear that if I don't, I won't ever again and for me, that would be a huge loss of opportunity. Because, you see, writing is an opportunity. It is a license. It allows us to take what lies within, beneath the surface of our daily lives and to bring it on. As I write, I remember things. As I remember things, I remember more.
My memories, they swing and shift like a tree in the breeze. Family tree. Distance has made it difficult to keep it fresh, to pick the fruit after long winters. My daughter has an apple tree in her backyard. Together, with my granddaughters, I picked apples from that tree for the first time since they moved in, several years ago. We thought the apples were not good for eating, that the tree had not been "cultivated". The new generation proved us wrong. They picked, we tasted, and we discovered that these are green apples, perfect for baking and making apple sauce. And so we did.
I've weeded out a lot of our Christmas ornaments, discarding, donating, and delivering to children those that they may have wanted to preserve. From now on, each new tree brings new memories. As I was going through the boxes, I found a card from last year. It was sent by our son and daughter in law and it simply read, "Pop, Fizz, Clink!", glittered on a very Kate Spade pink background. And, easier than I could have dreamed, I dug down to find places in my heart that have been worthy of such words and have pushed aside those that were flat and unworthy of recollection. There are moments in one's life that are on the Pop and Fizz list and moments that are on the boil and gently simmer for a long time list. Pops and Fizzes are the marriages, the births,the graduations, the "firsts". Slow Simmers are the magic in between, friendships, great meals, travel, good books, music, art.
My life is filled with Pops, fizzes and clinks, the Slow Simmer of simple memories, the stories that still breathe today as they did when they were first told. As I sit here waiting for my Muse, my arthritic hands remind me that it's harder to get words to the page but still so important to keep trying, if only to wish the world some glitter.
Go do it.
My memories, they swing and shift like a tree in the breeze. Family tree. Distance has made it difficult to keep it fresh, to pick the fruit after long winters. My daughter has an apple tree in her backyard. Together, with my granddaughters, I picked apples from that tree for the first time since they moved in, several years ago. We thought the apples were not good for eating, that the tree had not been "cultivated". The new generation proved us wrong. They picked, we tasted, and we discovered that these are green apples, perfect for baking and making apple sauce. And so we did.
I've weeded out a lot of our Christmas ornaments, discarding, donating, and delivering to children those that they may have wanted to preserve. From now on, each new tree brings new memories. As I was going through the boxes, I found a card from last year. It was sent by our son and daughter in law and it simply read, "Pop, Fizz, Clink!", glittered on a very Kate Spade pink background. And, easier than I could have dreamed, I dug down to find places in my heart that have been worthy of such words and have pushed aside those that were flat and unworthy of recollection. There are moments in one's life that are on the Pop and Fizz list and moments that are on the boil and gently simmer for a long time list. Pops and Fizzes are the marriages, the births,the graduations, the "firsts". Slow Simmers are the magic in between, friendships, great meals, travel, good books, music, art.
My life is filled with Pops, fizzes and clinks, the Slow Simmer of simple memories, the stories that still breathe today as they did when they were first told. As I sit here waiting for my Muse, my arthritic hands remind me that it's harder to get words to the page but still so important to keep trying, if only to wish the world some glitter.
Go do it.
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