Thought twice about the title, but, apparently some things improve with age, wine and cheese being at the top of the list, and....surprisingly there is something else I never imagined.
This past week has seen a huge rush in my life. Besides the sheer pleasure of spending time back in an area that feels like a warm embrace to my soul, I was shocked and amazed at something new I learned about ME.
I have admitted more than once, I have reached a point in my life where I don't really give a damn about things that others worry endlessly over. I am a book judge, if I meet someone and I get a read on them that rubs me wrong, I don't want to deal with them any further. I either like, or intensely dislike. I don't have the patience or energy to pretend any longer, plus, I really don't see why toleration is required. Why is it not acceptable, beyond my world, to simply wash my hands of those who irritate? Why should I have to play a game that, in the end, does not do anything besides pi$$ me off? I have not benefited from pretense, it has, in fact, pecked away pieces of my world and my sanity, so...because time and energy are both limited, I made a conscious decision to erase pretense from my way of life, and, I am quite comfortable with most thinking I am a *itch, because, what they think does not matter in the least.
So, I figured I was pretty hardened. My family often states I am mean, I assume, I am quick to judge, and...I don't like anyone! This is not true! I do like some, and...those I love, well, I love them with all the energy I save, not dealing with the rest of the crap. That is a whole lot of love! I knew I loved the special folks in my life, but until this past week, I didn't realize how much. I wonder if distance does indeed make the heart grow fonder, and returning to the place I feel at "home" the signal suddenly gets stronger?
See, I cry..but usually it is because something hard has occurred, something that causes me grief or worry. Oh, I cry at the sound of bag pipes, I cry when I hear songs that take me back to places I remember, but this recent piece of my life has shown that in time, under my varathaned exterior, my tiny little pebble of a heart has turned into soft ripe cheese.
My children are MINE, I raised them, they were my responsibility, and how they became grown adults, has most of the bearing on my honey and myself. How they appear to the rest of the world, can be attributed , in most part, on the job we did as parents. They, are those I brought into this world. But, there are others, who are right next in cue, in the lineup. There are those who are not connected by blood, but somehow tied with a pretty tight cord to me, and that connection, although has been long distance for many years, has become stronger. Again, I have to think it is because I gave up on trying to pretend about others who will never mean diddly to me, besides annoyance. I forgot how much those books I love, mean to me, and how much I miss having them close enough to spend time with.
Those of you who witnessed the unexpected water works, may have smiled in surprise, but, it was only because I have spent far too much time away from my tiny collection of books that are worth my time and energy. I am torn, there are my children in one place, and the rest of my family in another. It didn't cause as much issue when I was busy ensuring my chapters in the books of three, were written carefully, and all my time and effort was directed there. I have Grandchildren who are close enough to watch each page as they are turned, but, somehow I missed so many pages from the other books I love. To be a part of a graduation and a wedding, and to now have yet another wedding around the corner, it is clear so many chapters have gone unread, and I want..no, I truly think, I need, to collect all my books in a place where I can pick them up, and just glance at them, to enjoy, because life moves at a fast pace. In a matter of one week, all of this, and amongst the happy times, the ending of the book of life for another.
For a book lover like myself, I want to read them all! I realize it is not possible. I missed a couple of good books on this trip, and...that was not the plan. My daughter managed to read more than I did, and, I am jealous. I have come to realize it is time to collect my library, and sit down to open up the covers of those books collecting dust, because under the dust, are the finest reads of my lifetime, and it is long past time for me to begin my own new chapter. Just looking for the pen and paper to begin writing.