Making sense

Anne Lamott, on writing ...

"We are a species that needs and wants to understand who we are. Sheep lice do not seem to share this longing, which is one reason why they write so little. But we do. We have so much we want to say and figure out.”

Monday, July 13, 2009

Figuring things out ...

I haven't been blogging: 1) My best gal pal's 18-year-old son was killed on the Fourth of July (motorcycle accident: NOT HIS FAULT); 2) I've been distracted by Facebook, what with getting an account and all; 3) I've been reading and reading (trying to get through YA titles); 4) Summer school's kicking my butt (a language acquisition course); 5) My children continue to be needy, which I love, as being needed fills me with contentment.
So I've been busy.
But Alex's death has really made me reprioritize what's important on this earth. My new fat roll should not be giving me stress; the abundance of animal hair in the house should not be making me crazy; the kid clutter and dirty dishes in the sink (perpetual, it seems) should not be cause for whining.
Because my children are all alive, and there are wonderful animals (two cats, one dog) to offer creature comfort, and my husband and I still really, truly love each other, and our house protects us and I have my library and a closet full of clothes and a pantry stocked with food.
My life is so, so good.
I am a blessed woman.

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