small stones...

My - here it is, 2011. I've wandered through several years of living to get to NOW. Many little trails, a few long highways.


I'm now living with my mom, in Bay City, Oregon. Living in the same bedroom I grew up in. Weird doesn't even begin to describe how it feels at times. Mom is at the point in her life that it's a bit safer for her to have a house companion. Progressive dementia isn't fun. And it may be contagious, I'm finding...


The one truism of life: life goes on.
And on, and on, and on...


I just this moment found an intriguing little side path that I want to pursue.

http://ariverofstones.blogspot.com

Writing is not an urgent compulsion for me, but I so enjoy the process, and what it brings to me. Emotional releases that come no other way. Some chuckles to myself from time to time. A place for introspection, a time for sharable (is that a word??) solitude (is that a true concept?). As much as computers aggravate me, they are useful for this process. So I tolerate and use this tidy laptop. I still connect with the urge that made me begin this particular blog, and fittingly, I'm sitting here at the kitchen table with my writin' tool, so back to business. Writing for myself, and maybe a few visitors who like to browse or voyeurize (wow, another new word) here and there.

Here's my small stone for the day, to start my new "hobby":

A new living room picture window was installed this morning. Some provocative thoughts came to mind: the old window was clouded, difficult to see through or even recognize what was on the other side of that once-clear pane - rather like the past life I've left behind. The light and clarity allowed by the new window are startling, even painful to the eye - but makes the viewing so much more enjoyable. Perhaps a fitting analogy for what lies before me, my "new life". Without my life-companion, without my beloved grandpunks, without as much time for ME as I would desire - without without without. I still can't see far into that concept of my future, it's sometimes scary, frequently painful and frustrating - but, as always - life goes on.
Looking from the inside out through the fogged-up window is not how I want to spend my life. I want to be on the other side, LIVING life. I can do that, with small stones. And not throwing them, either. But how tempting.

With that thought to ponder through the day, I'm adding a quote recently plucked from the CURVES daily bulletin:

"We can't change the past but we can ruin a perfectly good present by worrying about the future."