For the last several days I have been having a very unsuccessful pity party for myself. Unsuccessful, says I , because I was the only one who came.
I am starting, starting mind you, to figure out that this pity party thing was all wrong. I was feeling sorry for myself because I didn’t get the desired reaction from my daughters about their Christmas presents. By ‘the desired reaction’ I mean they weren’t enthusiastic enough, they weren’t jumping up and down with joy, screaming with glee and adoration for me, the gift giver. Pretty self-consumed and selfish in general, huh? Yeah, I thought so.
Well, I’m sorry. I really am. I was unfair and I now know it. Up to yesterday though, you couldn’t have convinced me of that with a baseball bat.
You see, I gave them all books. Not just any books mind you. They were books I had written for them. Well, that’s not exactly true. I wrote them for me as well but they were primarily for them.
I’m beginning to see that too much of anything is not good. Yes, I’ve known that for many, many years but when it comes to something that you take great pleasure in doing and great pride in accomplishing, it’s hard to see the harm you are doing by forcing it down someone elses throat. Like I said, I’m beginning to understand now.
My primary problem is time. We, all of us, never know when ours will run out. Will it be today, tonight, next week or twenty years from now? There’s only One who knows the answer to that question and He ain’t sayin’. It’s a surprise.
I’m a very emotional person. I am a sentimentalist as well and I, as Johnny Carson would say, hark back to the old days and relive, in my mind and now on paper, those times and places where I found the most joy. Or, where the most joy found me.
As I write and read and re-read these stories, I go back in time. My senses are tuned to the sights, sounds and smells that surrounded me then and it is as if I’m there once more. It’s all so real and alive that, when I finish the story, it’s like I was there all over again. That’s what I want for my girls to feel. That’s what I want everyone and anyone who takes the time to read my stories to feel. If I can accomplish this in some small way, I’ll be happy. At least for a while or until I feel the need to throw myself another pity party. It could happen.
Have a great day and a very Happy and Safe New Year!