I’m a family history junkie (if you hadn’t figured that out) and I often lament, “why didn’t they write something about their life”? I would love to read a journal or a letter … some tangible word that would bring their thoughts, hope, dreams, struggles, triumphs or daily hopes alive. In the meantime I haven’t kept a journal regularly, I’ve tossed more letters than I can count, and … in my quest for Discovering Creativity and Meaning at Midlife and Beyond, one of the weekly tasks is to write my Memoir . Uggg, I think each time I sit down to answer the thoughtful questions meant to open up my locked consciousness. It’s not that I haven’t had a life … I have … much of it I’d just like to keep private, and some I’d just as soon as not remember … if you don’t mind … but, there are things sliding out of my memories that I haven’t thought of in ages (if at all).
Describe your room at ages 6-12: I didn’t have to share and I didn’t have a closet or a door … which was ok because if I had a door to slam I would have been grounded. I haven’t even thought about what my room looked like … there was an upholstered rocking chair and a bed. There is no color in my memory of that room until I was 12. I wonder what that means.
Beginning this journey has been slow. I did pick a stupid time to start; I/we have been on the road for about a month. In fact, the new Escape, purchased the 4th of May has …wait for it… rolled over 6700 miles on yesterday’s trip up to Council. Dang! 11 months sticking around? … sigh.
Can I find the bright side to lowering my road days? It’ll give me time to work on clarifying Me 2.0 or rather make that 62.0 … nope, I’ll just skip ahead to 62.0.2 … the first version of a release is always a bit buggy.
Pssst … nah, I won’t really be hanging tightly to the homestead … life is too short, family too dear, nature too enthralling, and adventure really does call when you least expect. I may have to rent an Escape …. So, where are you going?