It seems to be a matter of feast of famine when it comes to my word supply lately. This morning I woke up with such a "feast", I had no idea where to begin.
A few notes-to-self reminded me of little things that came to the tip of my consciousness that I could write about when the word supply ran dry.
The sadness that has enveloped a piece of our world as a little two-year-old girl who was declared "missing" two days ago has been found. But she was not found alive. There has to be a background story that is not being told there. I don't want to know. I want this family's privacy to be protected. It hurts to think of what this community is going through .,,
In light of that, it feels wrong to write about the light and easiness which is my life.
I have it easy. I know that. The bumps in my road are only little speed bumps and there is a lot of smooth road in between.
Yesterday was smooth sailing.
I ended the day in the company of two very good friends. Friends I have known for twenty five years. Friends who knew me before I had a voice. Friends who were instrumental to me finding my voice. Now they laugh because they can't shut me up. Everyone should have a set of friends (or even just one good friend) who knows you through the good times, the sad, the growth spurts and dormancy.
I found an "epal" (it seems to be the best invention of a word to describe the "pen pal" kinship we stumbled upon) yesterday through my efforts to sell some skin and neck cream I bought on impulse to battle this "Do you qualify for the Senior's discount?" syndrome that has become my own.
It seems very strange and ominous to write such a paragraph. "You started writing to someone through a Kijiji ad?? Seller BEWARE!"
This lady belongs to the over 50 club with me and we were comparing notes on this thing called aging. She asked me why I was selling the product. This was my reply:
"I purchased this cream in the wee hours of a sleepless night, shortly after taking my mom out for Mother’s Day brunch. The waitress asked ME if I was 65 or older, to qualify for the senior’s special. I am 54 years old. I laughed at the time but it was still in the back of my mind that sleepless night while I was watching one of those paid infomercials on TV. I was just contemplating the idea that if it did work for me, I would be stuck paying at least $50/month to keep me stocked with enough cream to last “forever” when I received this 3 month shipment. And to top it off, shortly after THAT one of the clerks at Co-op asked me if I qualified for the “Senior discount”. Just to be sure, I asked how old you had to be to qualify. You guessed it. 65 years old. A month of using the cream and I was still getting asked if I was 11 years older than my actual age. So I phoned and cancelled my subscription. And the rest is for sale on Kijiji!!
Now you know my whole story!"
Funny how a too-much-information response like that strikes up a conversation among strangers. Her response to my answer had me laughing out loud as I sat in a quiet room all by myself at the end of a long day.
Allowing yourself to be open and honest with your words and generous with the little stories which are a small part of your life are like an open invitation.
I started my day by messaging a friend-I-don't-know to tell her how she inspired me. I lived my day and ended it on a different variation of the same way it began.
In between all of that was a daycare day that had its share of good, bad and everything-in-between moments. I received a call that has the potential to change my weekend plans in the time it takes to make a phone call and see if an appointment can be booked. I spent the evening with friends and ended my day with a smile.
Life just doesn't get any better than that, does it?