Return

I have time to think. That is the great, the greatest luxury. I have time to be. Therefore my responsibility is huge. To use time well and to be all that I can be in the years left to me. This does not dismay. The dismay comes when I lose the sense of my life as connected (as if by an aerial) to many, many other lives that I do not even know. The signals go out and come in all the time.

May Sarton
Journal of a Solitude

Written in pre-cyberspace days, the paragraph above seems all the more relevant now in the era of blogs when we are connected to many, many lives that we don't know, and some that - in a way - we do. May Sarton sums up the challenge and opportunity of growing older as a woman alone so well that I'm tempted to stop writing and just post the photograph and the quotation.

It's my birthday today but a difficult phone call earlier this week has left me pensive rather than celebratory. This morning there are cards and presents, and a special lunch is planned for Saturday. Though very grateful, right now I feel a little detached from it all.

I've jotted down a Wish List for the coming year. In reality everything on it could be reduced to the yearning for a generous, unbarricaded heart.

The rest follows. Minute by minute.

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This morning is humid and slightly overcast. It's very warm even at this early hour. The cat rubs his furry face against my shins and purrs. I need to feed him then get ready for work. Normally I dress in neutral colours but today I plan to wear favourite deep fuschia blouse with the grey fleck trousers. I've lived another year, a turbulent one, and there is value in acknowledging the fact.

Rituals matter, even ones as trivial as a fuchsia blouse.

Today is shared as a birthday with Tamar, my blogging "twin". Many Happy Returns to both of us.