July in any other year…

The beauty of being able to look back and not have regrets is only possible if you write everything down. I was struggling last night, I had to write a post. My mind was a blank. I promised myself I would go back to writing every day for the rest of my life. That was 18 months ago. I pestered Julia, who happens to be staying here for a while, about where I could draw inspiration. She looked at me and drew on her 21 years of experience. I looked  back and heard the voice in my head say, “Who were you when you were her age?”

I dragged out a copy of my book. It was the second time today it came up in conversation – in my daily life – after a year of pouring my soul into writing it. How quickly I moved on from that accomplishment. It’s almost as if I have ticked that off my bucket-list, though a year ago I thought it was my ticket to fame, fortune and eternal bliss. Little did I know then,  eternal bliss is selling oils and vinegars every day. I searched the pages and found this day in two entries back in the early 1980s. I read aloud what my thoughts and feelings were, who I thought I was and what was utmost in my mind at that point. It grounded me to think I managed to move from there to where I am today.

The first time the book came up was when I went to pick up the girls from their spa day. I knew it wouldn’t be fun for Dahlia to go for a shampoo, nail clipping and grooming. Hanni sent me a gift certificate to deodorized the dogs, at the least. Shar Peis in summer are not a mild pet. Alice, I knew, would have an exhaustively wonderful time bossing all the other dogs around. Dahlia has become so old and feeble I worried she would be stressed. I refer you to this I wrote in January of last year about my roommates.

Suffice to say, I didn’t feel I had enough drama in my life so I’ve added bees. Ah, when will they ever learn, when will they ever learn – sung to the tune of the Byrds “Where Have All The Flowers Gone?”

The subject of the book came up today at the groomer’s when Paula’s husband, Kevin, came out to say hello. We have developed an easy friendship over the years, though in truth, we have never discussed literature. I know from conversations with Paula they are both avid readers. He proclaimed,  “I have meant to tell you, I read your book!”

“It’s ‘chic lit’ Kevin, not really your genre.” I replied.

“No, I know, but it was so well written and I really liked that it was in letters, no one writes letters today.”

I was humbled and reminded once again… write it down…

Several Julys ago when we were living a different existence that had different obstacles…