LJ Idol - Week 4: Ghosting

[tonithegreat]

November 1. My calendar tells me its All Saint’s Day. The day after Halloween. A grey afternoon in Tallahassee with the promise of storms this evening. Exactly one month from today, I will turn 40. A week later, my girls will be ten. So many things feel unreal this year, but the wheel of the year turns on.

2018 is the year my hair began to grey in earnest. Looking back, I’m sure I will think of it in other terms, too, but the year is waning and so far, that seems to be as appropriate an epitaph for it as anything else is going to be. 2018. Oh, 2018.

I’ve been noticing the moon a lot this year. When it is low and huge on the horizon, or when it is high and peeking from behind clouds, or blotting out patches of stars. My rhythms have synced with the moon. The week with the tired days comes now when the moon is fullest.

I don’t regularly journal anymore. There are snatches of notes in my planner on good days. I will rouse myself to write for something like Idol that catches my fancy. If I travel alone, I will scratch a few journal pages in my tent or on the plane. Maybe on the very best of outings, like our tenth anniversary trip this summer, I will take time for reflection and writing where I can really breathe. These last ten years or so; these integral middle years, are going by largely without recordation. Sometimes it saddens me that they will be so lost in the fog of time.

I love autumn. I’ve argued before that it shouldn’t be considered the waning of the year, since in our modern times, the harvest wheel is always stuck on bounty (for some, at least). And so many new things begin in autumn. The school year. I find renewed energy at work as the fiscal years turn, first Florida’s and then the Fed’s. College football cranks up and high school too. My girls’ lives become more married to the nine weeks schedules of school and their sports schedules each year. Good climbing weather starts out west and then in the southeast. Beach weekend camping turns to cozy tents in the foothills. Spring travels must be planned for now.

The tired days in my cycle are so very tired this year. At least three months this year, I’ve had the really bad headaches the day before my cycle begins, the ones I have to miss work for. My skin is changing again, too. Breakouts come and go with the waxing and waning of the moon. One twin is just starting to experience some acne and I’m coming back around to it. Are perimenopause and adolescences about to coincide here in my home? Talk about the wheel inside the wheel. Is that how it works for most women with daughters? When I had the girls at 30, I thought I would be one of the older mothers around, but plenty of my friends, and even my sister went on to have children later. The maiden doesn’t seem such a distant memory, but I fully inhabit the mother now, and I see the crone beckoning not far over the next rise.

My husband’s Parkinson’s has certainly progressed this year. I may be looking at middle age, but he, in his fifties and now 14 years into a diagnosis; together we are staring down the barrel of an endgame that goes poorly for a lot of people. It is the same barrel we all stare down, I know. Our journey is just accelerated and more fraught than average. Still, I hold tightly to my hopes for an only slightly early retirement from my current career that will still allow us some years for travel and less stressful work of other sorts. I don’t know how realistic they are, though.

One of the girls’ young climbing coaches, whose engineering degree cost him almost an order of magnitude more than my juris doctorate cost me fifteen years ago, started pricing out his dream van for us the other day. I didn’t explain to him how my escape van plan was also significantly cheaper than his, even though mine is also going to have to account for some significant handicap friendly features. Rog says he’s still game for now, and for now, I think it will still be fun for the two of us.

The election is coming, and as I tune in to the news, I think so much about my grandparents and great-grandparents. I feel like there are big cycles turning in human events now and I wish I could talk to them and get their thoughts about things. I really wonder what they would think. Would they ask me to do more? Try harder? Or say that I should step back more, into my close family and concentrate on home and family and close friends.

It feels like there are a million fronts to strive on, and now more than ever, it feels like I’m losing ground on all of them. Still the wheels turn and the sand flows. That’s not losing ground: its gaining experience. I have to pick something and strive. And so, tonight, while the veil is still thin, I guess I should light a candle and ask my ghosts what they think about it all.

___________________________________________

tonithegreat is tired. That’s another recurring theme for 2018. But she hopes you enjoyed this entry nonetheless.

Comments

[rayaso]

This was a fascinating meditation on your life. I especially liked the turning cycles. Despite your husband's health, you seem to have a happy, active family. I loved the line "That’s not losing ground: its gaining experience." Really good entry!

[tatdatcm]

You've conveyed so much here in such a tight, concise space. I love your relationship with the moon and your thoughts of autumn. I commiserate with your reduction in journaling and your husband's health issues.

Nicely crafted take on the prompt.

[the_eternal_overthinker]

*Hugs* It did come out as a positive entry and that says so much about you. I like the contemplative mood of this write-up and I sometimes go into that zone as well. Here's hoping that the year ends with an enthusiastic bang for you and everyone around you. Take care <3

[static_abyss]

I enjoyed your entey very much. You have s compelling way of telling a story and I like the weight you give to each part of it.it feels honest and flows nicely together. Well done!

[bleodswean]

You are young, my dear. Enjoy this new decade in which you yourself begin to be laid bare by time and the years you've already lived. You're such a deep-thinking, deep-feeling woman and it comes across both loudly and gently in your writing.

[bsgsix]

This is so... moving. That seems like a silly way to express what I'm thinking, but it was moving. There is a lot to think about here, and process (for you, I mean), and I'm glad you have the happy family you have. Circumstances may not always be great (do I ever get that!), but this is reflective and moving, and yes... it never hurts to ask your ghosts what they think. I see what you're saying.

Well written. I really was into this.

[dmousey]

I love how you brought the wheel/sands of time into your piece. And asking your ancestors what your next move should be is always a good thing. They watch over you and see things you may have missed. Yeah, I really like this piece. Thanks for sharing.🎃✌😊~~~d

[halfshellvenus]

I feel much the same way about autumn as you do-- it was always my favorite season. The school year has a different meaning now that our kids are away at college, though. It's the season of loss for us, the most keenly felt time.

I hope you're able to retire a little early to have more time with your husband. I face much the same dilemma myself, for different reasons, but in this parallel universe... I really feel for you, and I'm sorry you're both facing this. :(

[favoritebean_writes]

Oh, it's interesting how we contemplate our mortality so ernestly during the thinning of the veils.

One of my students has Parkinson's, and his neurologist keeps putting off the diagnosis, despite all of the symptoms. It's painful to watch. I'm sorry your husband is already having to look down that barrel.

[murielle]

A beautiful, healing, heartfelt meditation on Autumn, and the approach of the autumnal stage of a woman's life. Although I am two decades ahead of you, every word of this rings loud with truth and power. Beautiful!

[bellatrixe]

I really loved the atmosphere and emotions you wove into this Great piece!

[daisysparrow]

"The week with the tired days" -- that is such a great turn of phrase!

[sonreir]

This is seriously great. Thank you for sharing.

[nayanawrites]

Hugs ... thank u for sharing your life. Writing does heal and help you take the forward steps.

Take Care.

[bewize]

This was so well done. I feel you. I so feel you on so many things here.

"The maiden doesn’t seem such a distant memory, but I fully inhabit the mother now, and I see the crone beckoning not far over the next rise."

Ain't it the truth. I was 38 when my son was born.

[moretta]

That final paragraph really got to me.