One thing I have learned in life. That everything changes. We make plans. We follow routines. We fret over situations. In a moment, all of that can fall away. Life doesn’t care about your agendas. This is humbling and in some way comforting. We are not really in control.
Recently, I entered a 91-word memoir contest. I didn’t win. Following is my entry:
It was early in the morning on Valentine’s Day. The night nurse stood at the door of my childhood bedroom. “He’s gone,” she said. I followed her downstairs to what used to be my parents’ room. The overhead light was on. My husband’s eyes were open, as was his mouth. I touched his still-warm arm. His two-year struggle was over. I would make no more trips to the convenience store for Mountain Dew and cigarettes. A half-empty pack sat on the dresser, a few feet from the oxygen machine.
I have made a commitment to myself that I will get up every Sunday morning and write for an hour or so. This is a good starting place for taking my writing more seriously. I give myself permission to actually be a writer. For many years, I suppressed my voice. I was afraid of what might happen if I said what I really wanted to say. Writing is scary. People might not like what I write. It might upset them. I will have to work through this and realize that expressing myself is better than not expressing myself.
It is March 5, and we have gotten the biggest snow storm of this winter. I decided to stay home from work and not risk another experience like last year. On my way to work one morning, my traction control stopped working. I ended up in a ditch. A tow truck had to pull me out.
Today, I am reflecting on my life. I’m excited about spring. It will be a time of new opportunities, I think. My financial situation will be a little better, which will open up new options.
My boyfriend and I are taking a trip to New York City at the end of this month. I was last there in 2002. We’re going to take in the American Museum of Natural History, Central Park, and Ground Zero. Jim also wants to see the Statue of Liberty, so maybe we’ll take the Staten Island Ferry.
We’re going to meet up with my sister and her husband for dinner at a Southeast Asian restaurant. Then the four of us will attend a concert that is the real reason for the trip. My late brother’s music is being performed at a microtonal music festival.