Well that was painful! In moving ahead with the rewrite (of my manuscript), I got stumped on a page that described one important period in my early high school years. I felt that the writing on this page was lackluster and I couldn't quite put my finger on what felt incomplete. I went down to the basement and dug out diaries I had written in the time.
I'd kept a journal, with pauses, but pretty consistently for nearly forty years, beginning at age 11. The last three decades of writing were the most detailed and intense, but I also found them to be the most insufferably nauseating and so I threw the batch of them out into a trash bin. Right by Bagels Forever on University Avenue. But I did keep the ones from the first decade, and to help myself get out of the stall on this unfortunate page, I decided to read a little from this period.
Painful, I tell you! I just kept thinking -- that girl needs help!
None of the details came as a surprise. I have a pretty good memory of those years and my journal writing, such as it was, confirmed what I already had in my storehouse of recollections. But the angst! Oh, the angst! The inability to step outside myself, to reach beyond those adolescent emotions! When you are a teen, and out and about, you walk and talk like a fully formed person, but don't let it fool you! That's just the veneer. Dig a little and you'll find a jumble of crazy thoughts and outsized feelings. Really awful stuff. Once again I'm thinking I should dump the whole bunch of books out. No one should read this stuff ever again. But then I remember that I have grandkids and that sometimes it's very hard to put yourself inside the mind and heart of a little one and maybe it's good to keep some of this raw stuff, horrible as it is, as a peek into the soul of a young person who is still trying, with a lot of desperation, to figure things out in life.
Not to say you ever figure things out in life, but surely you get closer to a reasonable perspective once you jump out of those early, formative years.
It's a gray day once more and the only good thing I can say about that is that we are owed some sunshine big time! And when it comes back to brighten the landscape, there shall be rejoicing in this household!
In the meantime, I spend my morning outdoor time helping chickens cross the road. Or path, really,
Once again, they are undecided as to where they should hang out and what they should do with their time.
Breakfast.
I lose myself so much in my writing/editing, that I do not pay attention to the passage of time until the phone rings and a very patient farmer reminds me that I need to pick-up my order at the farmers market between 10:30 and 12:30 and we are now at 12:25.
Let me explain: Bill and Judy, the farmers who have for years supplied us with winter hoop grown spinach (through their Sung Haven CSA), inserted into their last delivery a bunch of carrots that were honestly the best I'd ever eaten. Young, sweet, delicious. I gave some to Snowdrop and her family and they got devoured very quickly. So quickly that my daughter never even saw them. So I asked if I could buy more and Bill reminded me that some of the farmers continue to sell their stuff over at MadisonFarmersUnite.com. You put in your online order by Thursday, pay by card, and pick it up at one of the local businesses that hosts the deliveries on Saturday. Curbside carrots, here we come!
Except then Saturday came and I was writing and I forgot. But never mind -- the call comes and I run to the car and drive (way too fast) to Lakeside Street Cafe, the place of my pick-up. As I get out of the car, Bill and Matt (another favorite farmer, from Blue Valley Gardens) come out with my bag of stuff (I added garlic and pumpkin honey to the order) and suddenly things feel so social: there I am, by (if not inside) the coffee shop where Snowdrop and I have munched on a million scones and cookies, and there are Bill and Matt, friends really, chatting, catching up on the last months, laughing too and I think -- wow! This is what we've been missing all these months! Real people contact!
Suddenly, the day does not seem so gray anymore. Even though it really is gray and just a degree too warm, so that the snow base is getting smaller and smaller...
Ed and I coax ourselves out for a walk. We must. It's 2021 after all! Hail the new ye! ...falalalala lalalala.
We walk just in the development next to us and there's hail alright -- of the icy kind. Sleet, really. But we persevere. And are rewarded with that feeling of accomplishment: it was awful out there, but we survived!
We end the day with a real burst of color: I text my daughter, asking how Primrose is faring. I get a FaceTime response. Here, the picture says it all. (Photo credit: dad)
Gloomy weather outside? Oh really? Didn't notice!
