“But there is always a November space after the leaves have fallen when she felt it was almost indecent to intrude on the woods…for their glory terrestrial had departed and their glory celestial of spirit and purity and whiteness had not yet come upon them.”
Damn, do I love this Montgomery quote.
Not sure, but I believe this past week, here, felt more like summer than fall, but I heard few complaints.
This week has been all about nature, music, and words, the third allowing me to express my love for the first two.
Ten Things of Thankful:
For creatinine at 70 and my father to ask if it is possible for this level in the blood to be too low.
Another six month checkup behind me and my creatinine is lower than it has been in a few years.
Every time I go in to get my kidney function checked, I wonder: is this going to be the day everything falls apart?
It’s been eighteen years since I received a kidney from my father. Most days, I tell myself I can break records and I think about the huge party I’m planning to throw when I reach the twenty-year mark.
(You are all invited by the way.)
Other times, the reality hits me that, though the nurses keep reminding me nothing would happen that fast, I know I may have to go back on dialysis again, at any time, and nobody can say when and nobody can stop it.
Until that day, I keep on praying for advancements in medical science and for each six months I’m given, dialysis free.
For the reminder of the beauty of nature all around me, to remember to stop and take it in once and a while.
My mother reminded me of this, my nephew reminded me of this, and our warmer-than-usual first-week-of-November weather reminded me of this too.
For the sound of rippling, not quite waves.
We spent an afternoon along the shore of the small lake in my town. With just the noise of a gentle ripple I let the warm breeze rustle my hair and looked out over the water.
It’s more of a subtle sound and it fit the slight breeze and the warmth of the day, a small break in the cooler fall temperatures.
For the discovery of some truly wonderful music I did not know existed.
For artists trying new things, doing things their own way, and making kick ass music.
For those who know you, parts of you, and what you like, even if you never would have liked something before they came along. Even as time marches onward, certain people know best the parts of you that nobody else might have been witness to.
For do-overs and the ability to still smile and find good memories, even after rough times. And for time, the best way to deal with heartbreak.
It’s not always easy, does not become so in any real linear way, but I know of no better option.
For my first week of my new writer’s group.
I tried my best to write about my first experience, as a part of the group, as scary as it was at the time.
It was also exhilarating too. I wish I’d started months ago, but this group only began last January, I was told.
For the part where I was recognized, which made my first week in a group of strangers a little less overwhelming.
The woman who runs the group is a friend of a family member of my family.
This woman happens to work at the library and she knew who I was.
For the chance to talk about a favourite book of mine.
This woman just happened to mention her book club the following night and what they had read. She wasn’t sure how many were going to come out in favour of Watchman, with the deep attachment to Mockingbird which exists.
When I spoke up about my love of this book, she right away invited me to join her, to be at least one person on her side, in favour of the new one.
For a festival of words and a friend who accompanied me, even if she may have been a little bored at certain moments. She made it memorable.
I only made it to the opening night reception, but perhaps next year I will attend more of the events which were put on yesterday and today.
It’s both easy and hard to be somewhere where words are what it’s all about.
I love being anywhere (whether it be critique group, book club, or festival) where writing, books, or words are the sole topic of conversation.
However, as with the reception the other night, I looked around the room and listened to the remarks made and little bits of conversation. I felt a way, perhaps, that many others felt. Everyone else here is more literary and more experienced with books than I am, whether true or not.
I’ve learned about writing, that to share and read other writers is just as wonderful as anything. I want to include a few examples, from each previous week’s TToT, at the bottom of each post I write, every single week, from now on.
I am moved by words, now, on a weekly basis.
“The world is wrong. You can’t put the past behind you. It’s buried in you; it’s turned your flesh into its own cupboard.”