Home is memories of meals, holidays, celebrations. Home is feelings of belonging and estrangement. Home is not always where the heart is, nor is it where one lives. There was a brick house with faded white paint on Edgewood Terrace that used to be my home. I can’t remember the color of the window shutters…

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Before adulting was a word, before internet and cell phones, I lived in Idaho. First, I left Virginia on a one way plane ticket sent with love and expectations. Then, I remained after our divorce with no house and no wheels. Living alone for the first time, with $500 in hand, I went car shopping.…

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  Five years ago I wrote about being sixty-one.   Five years is a short time. Five years is a long time. Five years is an arbitrary amount of time, like my age.   Sixty-six.   I’ve been alive for over 24,000 days, living them one day at a time. One moment at a time.…

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A portal connects points in time. Was I was inspired by Marie Kondo videos or did planetary aspects motivate me? Mountains of boxes cluttering the guest room closet pushed me over the edge. I reached the point of zero tolerance and pulled out the first box. A box of memories filled with pictures, letters, cards,…

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Where do I begin?   Start at the beginning? I don’t want to.   Start where you are. Except that if I start where I am here today by the time you, the reader, see this, I will be farther into the future.   Start future writing? I’m reading the book I wrote and thinking…

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Your writing voice is the deepest possible reflection of who you are. The job of your voice is not to seduce or flatter or make well-shaped sentences. In your voice, your readers should be able to hear the contents of your mind, your heart, your soul. ~ Meg Rosoff   My words are mirrors of…

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Let your life lightly dance on the edges of Time like dew on the tip of a leaf. ~ Rabindranath Tagore   For a long time now, I’ve wanted to understand time. Yes, I can read a clock or consult the calendar, but that’s not the experience of time that I’m trying to understand. The passing…

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  Are you reelin’ in the years Stowin’ away the time ~ Steely Dan   Recently, Anne Lamott wrote a post on turning 61. She says her “inside self doesn’t have an age.” I don’t think mine does either but I sure have a lot of memories, some are more clear than others. Anyway, I…

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Yes, I’ve been around the block a time or two, maybe three. I know what my self-talk patterns are really about. Cycles of despair. Neural ruts. They sound like this. I feel fat. I hate myself. If I eat, I’ll feel better. No, really. If I eat too much then I can obsess over my…

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I am 61 years old. Sometimes I squirm in my chair, feeling awkward in my changing body. I wonder if I’ve made valid decisions about life, work and children. I’ve made mistakes. I have a few regrets. I wonder how things might have been different.   Driving down the road, looking in the rear view…

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