smokingboot

It's been a pretty astonishing decade.

Some strange and dangerous and painful things occurred, but there was also happiness of the most profound kind, and honesty too, at once harrowing and merciful.It's all been rather beautiful.

There's been marriage, which I never expected, and find fantastic.
There's been menopause, and by god, though the process is just awful, what Kirsten Scott-Thomas' character says in Fleabag is true; it sets you free.

There has been travel, and there can never be enough travel.
There have been three homes, each of them with their own charm and kindness.
And one greater home, this Earth, which I love more every day.

It's all been about Love really.

There's been truth, which, at times, I absolutely detested.
There have been lies, which, at times, I absolutely detested.
But at least I learned to tell the difference. Not always but often.

There has been Death, striding through the decade, making me see. Gerald, Michaela, Steve Ash, Steve Wilson, Henry, Olivia, my uncle Onessimo and more... 2015 was my year for education in death; losing Mark McCann and Dad, Mark slipping away by degrees, and Dad out quick and gentle like a snuffed candle.

2011 was my own lesson in life and death, my 'not today' moment.

There was the Wizardry of Oz; Sydney and the Barossa and the Whitsundays and the Great Barrier Reef.

There was AFRICA.

There was New York and New Friends.

And of course, there was the endless delight, the variety, the sophistication, the brilliance of Europe, impossible to list it all. But I shall mention Granada often, Scotland now.

There was politics, and delight in our ancient institutions.
There was politics and the chipping away of these things.

There was paganism and my falling away from it.
There was something deeper to replace it.

There was so much because my life is rich beyond my dreaming. I'm grateful. I continue.

And on the day I am not continuing, if there is any record anywhere that shows anything, let it say that Here Was A Happy Woman. Not every day, but in the deep stratum of herself, below her daily moods and frustrations, below even her Depression, her PTSD, her child-gained issues, her vanities, her silliness, her flaws and vices. She grew, and she learned.

Now here we go again.

Time for me to go unblock that dishwasher.