- to write a book that would tear your insides apart with laughter, not heartbreak.
- to write tiny bites of my life with enough humor to leave my readers with howling belly aches over exaggerated blimps and bleeps.
- to write the best selling memoir full of wit and wisdom, one that would live on the nightstand of every parent on this earth who might need a quick dose of humor following a particularly harrowing day.
- to write with a keen sense of humor to keep my readers turning the pages (or swiping their Kindles) to the very last word.
- to write the takeaways that would lead to joyful resolution for all who read my words.
Meanwhile I have
- written the necessary 90,000 words of a pitiful and shitty first draft (ala Anne Lamott), just to get over it.
- highlighted the questionabull, deleted the distractabull, rewritten the sustainabull, and added the conceivabull.
- hit the muddy middle and squirreled away at least sixty hours of mindless FaceBook gaming in the last thirty days.
The time has come
- to send away the critics and bring in the clowns.
- to let go of the past.
- to write that final chapter.
If nothing else comes of this
- I can say I wrote a book
- My inner self will be sufficiently mended.
- I can be a better person.
- I still have a sense of humor.
BUT maybe one day I’ll sit at the Algonquin table in Dorothy Parker’s mink coat signing copies of my phenomenal book.
Ten years ago today I said goodbye to my best friend.
We met in the sunset of our lives. It’s not an uncommon occurrence that two women become best of friends in the Red Hat Society. This disorganization of women over fifty has grown in exponential proportions since its inception only a few years ago. It fills the need for those women over fifty to gather together to celebrate life with fun and frivolity. And that is exactly what we do. We do it with whim and wit flaunting our age in shades of purple topped off with brilliant red hats.
When I learned about this society of women, I felt that my conservative and shy nature made me an unlikely candidate for such a prominent public display of splendorous glitz. Under the guise of a dare I coerced a few old friends into buying red hats, purple dresses, and showing up for high tea at a local tea room. We giggled under our bright red brims, a conspicuous spectacle of color amid the dainty pink and white décor. Due to a few inquiring ladies with sense of admiration we emerged a couple of hours later with our hats tilted with a new attitude (hat-itude). The next day I registered with Hat Quarters as Queen of the newfound RHS Molls.
The Molls chapter has now grown into an eclectic group of over sixty members and while I enjoy the exaltedness of being a queen, so contrary to my life before red hats, the biggest reward has been my bond with one special new friend. She walked into my life with a handful of silly purple clappers, the biggest grin ever, and the heartiest of all laughs. We had the same purpose in mind… pure fun. And fun we have, time and again.
Neither one of us had a single clue that the biggest problems in our lives would be our biggest bond. It happened a few months after we met when I shared with her a rather personal reason for my escape into this society of women. Her face dropped as she blurted out her reason. While our situations were different, we shared equally desperate challenges. The point is not what we suffered from but how we would take care of each other. We allowed each other the space to share the daily trials in our life and then we moved past that into fun and friendship. We learned that sharing the grief, with compassion and a good sense of humor lessened the burdens and intensified the fun.
This friendship that developed was far beyond the friendships of my youth. For me the young friends came and went as we grew apart in our individuality, moved on, or moved away. My life has been a journey with turbulent twists and turns. But as I settle into my second half of life and learn who I have become through these circumstances of life, the growing pains recede. I begin to let go of the past and enjoy a new set of friends; friends, who know and like each other for who we are today.
There is a new set of dynamics however in these recent relationships. Youth behind us we now realize the evidence of our temporary existence as friends, old and new, begin to pass on. And so, this special friend and I shared our last days together in sadness and in joy. Together, we cherished the journey and the gifts of each day.
Rest in peace my dear friend. I miss you every day.