Monday, October 22, 2012


Thirty-One, A Novel

Day One
Day Two  
Day Three
Day Four
Day Five
Day Six
Day Seven
Day Eight
Day Nine
Day Ten
Day Eleven
Day Twelve
Day Thirteen
Day Fourteen
Day Fifteen
Day Sixteen
Day Seventeen
Day Eighteen
Day Nineteen
Day Twenty
Day Twenty-One

Day Twenty-Two, Monday

Morgan picked up her journal, took it out to the back patio, sat down at the little table and began to write.

I thought a lot last night, about what Gertrude told me about the voices in my head. Yeah, those voices that only crazy people hear! No, the voices from the life I had. The voices, angry and accusing and blaming, wishing shame on me. “Shame on you.” Words I refuse to say to anyone, ever. Does anyone really think about what that means? Are they really wishing that the horror of shame would fall on that person? Maybe not, but it is a curse to heap on someone.

Sidetracked, but maybe this is what journaling is about. Writing to see, writing to discover, writing to learn, writing to explore.

So these voices, are all from the past. They are not here, now, speaking to me. They are memories. Regrets. Makes me think of that old song. “Regrets, I’ve had a few, but then again, too few to mention…” Okay, what regrets would I mention? I could make two lists: what I did, and what I did not do. She set the pen down, leaned back in the chair, looked out across the yard. Her yard. Her flowers. Her patio. Her house. Her life. Now. Today.

She wrote. Gertrude was right. I am accepting the blame, making choices based on what I think they would say. On what I think they would think. That does seem kind of silly. Instead of being afraid of what Shane would think, I need to write him letters. Maybe he feels forgotten, over there in Afghanistan. Maybe I have been blinded by my own little problems. He did help me move in to this house. Then, a week later he was gone, on the other side of the world. I let the stress-filled things he said to me, in the move, get to me. Maybe, just maybe, he was expressing his own fears, and I was too sensitive. Or was it insensitive? Took it all personally. Maybe?

Responsibility. Opens a whole new world of ideas. What can I do? Write newsy, friendly letters. Not ask anything or expect anything. Attempt to rebuild the washed out bridge. And Eli? Don’t know how to reach out to him. Will think about it, find some way.

What can I do? Be aware, be grateful, be thankful for all I do have, here, now. I will start a list, add to it each day. Today. 
#1 my house 
#2 this patio and yard 
#3 new friends 
#4 flowers 
#5 food in the cupboards 
#6 encouraging words 
#7 the mountains 
#8 clouds in the deep blue sky 
#9 books to read 
#10 creativity. 
Wow, makes me think in a different direction. Looking at all I do have, not at all I have lost. I like this. A lot.

1 comment:

  1. I've been gone a few days and just caught up on the chapters. A very relatable story unfolding here. I had never journaled until I moved a year ago... it started out feeling awkward, but fun and interesting as time has passed. You do learn, gain insights and inspirations as you write. Morgan is growing and changing :)