Humans tell stories.
Sometimes they are in the form of a scientific paper that describes the results of a carefully designed study. Sometimes they are in a legal document that lays out the justification for actions taken. Sometimes they are made up to entertain us.
Some are lies.
Some are Tweets.
Some are lies within Tweets.
Some stories trace the arc of a thousand years–on an imaginary distant planet or our own. Others describe a particle that decayed in microseconds.
The last 30 days have allowed me to tell stories. They are mine, and, as my spouse reminded me, written for me. The last time I did this several years ago (20 for 20 back then), I concluded it all by saying I had some things to write about my mom, and though not all or even most were about her, she was in most of them.
She is still in some of these since I am convinced that her life had a big part in forming mine. But, these are not about her in the same way.
We live in an in-between time, and any story told now is a placeholder for thoughts we hope will be more fully formed in the course of “normal time.” But maybe that will not come back, and perhaps this “post-everything” age will always feel “in-between”–a period of waiting for a suitable denouement that will bring catharsis.
Given my age, I fully expect to live in-between for the duration. That makes all my stories subject to revision. But since they are mine and written for me, that feels just okay.
I wish I could say there was a revelation, an insight, an awakening, in the writing of these days. There was not. But again, age…
What there was, however, was a sense of daily appreciation. Appreciation that I can still think; that writing can help me sort out the mental chatter that consumes my waking hours. Thankfulness that I can still name the people and things I love; that I can get on my bike and ride and then write about it–that I have locomotion and the faculty for reflection when I come to rest.
And appreciation that these narratives can and do form the basis for further thinking and reflection on things I care about. The end of these 30 days is just a beginning. I am glad about that.