The pure and simple truth
is rarely pure and never simple.
I woke up very early this morning and realized why I have been writing about loss and death. It is not that I have unresolved grief over the deaths in my family at all. The problem seems to be coming home and back into reality has me grieving the loss of the very lovely and simple life I was leading for four months. That life style made me realize that I could be doing more things that I enjoy and less of things that I feel through guilt that I have to do.
So, first thing this morning laying in bed I decided that today I would start to turn that around and start planning and rearranging my life to be more what I want it to be rather than what others expect it to be. It was Sunday so I went off to Church and the Farmers Market with Denis. When I got home I ate my lovely gluten free scone from the Gluten Free Bakery in Chatham NY. I also had purchased their delicious lemon pound cake to take to my woman’s writing group tomorrow, some bread and some croutons. Denis likes them as well.
Then I rode the bike in the bedroom for 50 minutes. While riding I read the book I am into currently called “Ireland – A Novel” by Frank Delaney. It is about an Irish story teller who shows up at this farm house and stays and tells stories every night. The first one was about New Grange and how it was built and the second about Conor King of Ulster. Am waiting to see what story comes next. But the time flew by on the bike while I read.
Then I went upstairs and started to work on planning to upgrade my writing space. Cleaning out all the papers that are all over the desk, putting the futon back as a couch so I can sit there and read and packing away sheets and blankets. It may take a couple of weeks to get it the way I want it but then I think I can really start to work on the book.. What book?
Several years ago my Aunt Mary died up in Canada. She was single and had many of the family treasures in her apartment as well as a garage she rented. Most of the stuff in the garage was thrown away but the paperwork my cousins found when they sorted through her belongings held many treasures for anyone doing family history. One such envelope contained my Aunt Pats letters from the front in WWII. You are wondering about a woman being on the front. Well, actually she was just behind the front in a Canadian Army Hospital that triaged the patients as they were brought out of the battle zone. She experienced bombings and air raids and all kinds of scary things and romance, love, friendship and sadness. My goal is to take her letters and turn them into a novel. Many historical facts and no made up characters but tell the story she tells. I have not decided to tell it from her point of view – as her telling the story or from the third person. That part is yet to be determined. I have started writing short stories of various episodes to help me decide which approach to take. But in the mean time I am going to get the room ready to start in February when I get back from DC doing the serious work of writing.
So there I have said it out loud so you can hold me too it. Also thanks to Maureen who was sending me a psychic message today and then an email stating exactly what I was thinking about at 6 am. We were both on the same wave length and that helped me to decide I have to do something about this funk I have been in.
PIctures are of the end of the game last night – the woman lost 4-2, then the Farmers Market stage and some of the vendors.