The house is quiet. For now. I sit here contemplating my day. Cradling my coffee cup in my hands, I feel the warmth and inhale the aroma of this hallowed first cup of the day. The first is always the best. I take a sip and feel as it warms and soothes my mouth and my palette. I swallow. The aftertaste arouses my tastebuds. The warmth moves down my throat…the day has begun.
How will I make this day different from the past five hundred days?
Five hundred is not a random number I pulled from the air. It is interesting that it is such a round, nice number, but it is an exact number. The number of days since I locked the door and walked away. It was a dream that was thirty years in the making and only survived for eleven. I’m not over the loss.
Be it a relationship or business, I don’t move on easily. But once I have, I don’t go back. I don’t want to be confronted with the past nor do I want to have to explain why I’m not that person anymore. I sometimes fantasize about walking away from everything and never looking back. Going someplace where no one knows my name. Unlike Cheers where everyone does know your name, I often think how delightful it would be to go to a place and start fresh. No baggage. No reputation. No preconceived ideas to hold me hostage. Just a new me in a new place with a new story to tell. As much as I daydream about living in a small town, this part of my personality makes me a perfect big city girl.
There are a few people I would take with me on such a journey. I’m not naming names as I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. I love my family but this is a dream so I get to choose who comes along for the journey. One thing is for sure, Maggie would be by my side and my husband would be my pilot.
I’ve often thought it would be lovely to spend a year living in different parts of the United States. I want to experience different things, the seasons for example. Fall in Maine. Winter in Tennessee. Spring in Minnesota. Summer in Michigan. I didn’t get very far; maybe I need more than one year.
I also know that I would want home to stay where it is. That safe place I can return to time and time again knowing that somethings never change. I both love and loathe my home. I didn’t get to choose it; I chose the man and the house came with him. I’ve tried for years to get him to move just so we could choose our home together. I’ve given up. It is never going to happen so I am going to accept this as my forever home and make the best of it. It is, after all, the only home our daughter has known and the home our granddaughters consider their home as well. They were all raised here for a few years and the memories are precious.
So, back to my original question. How am I going to make today different from the past five hundred days? The answer is, I’m not. What will be different isn’t as much what I do but how I do it. I am not going to over analyze the purpose of the rooms, what I am supposed to do with all my stuff (I just need to load the car and give it away!), what the meaning of life is or the cosmic consequences of absolutely every decision I make. Nope, not going to do that today…or any other day anymore.
Today I am writing. That is a crucial first step and will be my daily practice; free range writing in my journal is the daily exercise that I must do to get my mind active and creative. Then, whatever I write next will change from day to day.
I named this blog The Whimsical Hen because I am at a point in my life where I should be having less responsibility and having more fun. Some days I will pack my trusty iPad and head for the crazy streets of Houston. Other days I will drive out to the country or small towns to write about what I see and do. One thing is for sure, whether I am at home or on the road, I will be drinking coffee, eating and having fun.
The past is the past…onwards to the future!