It’s Been a Long Time Coming Home

Koi Necklace, by Gail

Koi Necklace, by Gail

Dear Friends,

This has been a long year, and I have missed writing. Some of you may forget that you subscribed to my blog at all. I haven’t forgotten you. I’ve been on a journey. Most of it has to do with physical health, but I’ve had spiritual growth, too. All in all, I’m in a better place than I was the last time I posted.

December arrived with a diagnosis of breast cancer, again. I had a mastectomy in February and am gladly on the other side of the surgery and cancer-free once again. The general malaise I had can be chocked up to my body fighting the invader. For those of you who have had cancer, you understand the assault on security it causes and the face of your own mortality.

This Summer I was battling another of my physical conditions, post-polio syndrome. I haven’t written about my disability because who wants to read about a disability? I like to write about the love and beauty in the world. Anyway, I had an overall general decline in my abilities and it prevented me from writing and doing the things I love: writing and making jewelry.

I sell my jewelry in a shop on Etsy, and I have met some other wonderful artists and jewelry makers. It has opened up new friendships and bonds that will last for years to come. There is a link to my shop on this blog, if you’re curious. I’m not trying to sell you anything, I just love to share my design and artwork.

The Summer passed with daily observations and joy in the hummingbirds at my feeder. I can’t even express my love for the beautiful creatures. I tended to them lovingly, making their nectar every week and replenishing it before it got stale. In turn, I was delighted with their antics and sheer beauty, the wonder of the small glimpse they gave to me of their lives.

I was gifted with three granddaughters at once, when my son Jesse and his wife Ines adopted sisters. They are three, four, and five, and gorgeous, adorable, precious little people. They have been through so much in their young lives, I am overwhelmed for them. I have not met them yet, as they live far away, but they’ll visit in the Spring when another son, Ethan, and his girlfriend Andrea have their baby boy. Eric is my third child, and is single at the moment.

This post is entirely unlike my other offerings. I usually rise above the everyday to meet you in the stratosphere of poetry or daily missives on the beauty and the love that surrounds me. Sometimes I write memoir and prose. But I wanted to catch you up on my life, and in a way, give you the reasons for my absence from my blog.

I need to connect on a deep level with you.

With that, I’ll say:

Love,

Gail

Prose – Life’s Hourly Challenge

HPIM1269

I spent thirty-two years alone.

Sometimes I wonder why, but usually I answer the question with an answer understandable to me. And maybe to others.

I am a writer. I was writing for thirty-two years. It’s true. But there’s more to it than that. There’s more because I’m also a thinker. I needed the silence of my home to think through the demons of my psyche, to untangle my enmeshed past from my present to provide any future I had a promise of happiness. I wasn’t unhappy being alone, I was working hard. I was enjoying the nature I am so in tune with. I was on my patio writing poetry. And thinking.

I still feel the texture of the paper, and the pen in my hand. I see the swirls of half and half in my hot coffee in my morning reverie. I see the nasturtium so full of the orange and yellow they burst out in the pots I had on iron stands. The green of the lawn was as if I was seeing it through a photographic filter, brilliant and lush. My moments of writing were an epiphany and a godsend of nourishment for my soul.

I’m writing in the past tense. I haven’t been out on the patio in the beauty of the nature which is there, nor have I been writing poetry. I am a writer, but I am not writing.

Life gives us an hourly challenge in choices. Over the years alone, I set priorities in place. Perhaps surprisingly, people had always come first, and still do.

One day, I simply decided I wanted and needed to be with a man who would love me, and love being cherished. It wasn’t out of loneliness, but I was missing something I had never had. An intimate equal in all ways. It happened for me; the details aren’t important. What is important are my priorities. I’m not loving instead of writing. I will write again. Instead, my thoughts are with him and a challenge he is facing. I am with him, but we all have independent challenges.

I only hope I can be enough of a support to lighten his burden of worry and take care of him. It’s a simple hope and wish.

This is my hourly challenge.