One of my favorite memories of my maternal grandmother is sliding into the velvety backseat of her car as she cranked the engine. "Your door is ajar," a disembodied female voice said.
"My door is not a jar, it's a door," my grandma always muttered.
This quote about the soul standing ajar reminded me of how I close mine. I turned to books and writing to cover up the pain and heartache of failed friendships. Forgive, I told myself. Little did I realize that I needed to forgive myself more than anyone else.
I'm part of an amazing group of women who are talented writers, as well as fireproof friends. Without them, I would have given up writing, as well as my faith in true, honest, no-holds love. When my friend, Becky, and I part, we always say, "I love you." We both have learned from our life experiences that there is not enough time, not enough reassurance or passion or heartfelt connection to let those moments pass.
It has been three years. It is time to forgive myself.
What prompted such a random post? Fun from my email bag:
While I admire your attempts at reading all of the books in the world, I think that you may be better off finishing your own work like one of your friends posted. We'd miss your sarcasm, but I'd rather read you on the page instead of on the screen.
Wow, thank you. I am working hard every day, whether it's fifteen minutes or a few hours... I get my butt in the chair and write. It will get done, and it will be fantastic.
Change your photo.
OK. Fine. You win. It's time for a change, yes?
You have another blog, but you can't access it. Can I read it?
I'll be honest... I haven't written in that blog for years. It is the Witness Protection Program at the Effin' Ranch (trademark sign), little thoughts that feed into my memoir. Instead, I write in my notebooks. It seems to work better that way. Here's what you're missing... a photo of my favorite part of our hobby farm:
This is a photo of it three years ago. Last year, straight-line winds picked off the entire limb supporting the left branches on the tree. We're going to honor the oak spirits by creating something cool out of it in the new house on the other end of the property. I won't take photos of it broken... I'd rather remember it this way.