Becca Rowan is a writer and the author of Life in General, a collection of essays about mid-life as experienced by an American woman in the 21st century. Becca loves creating connections by sharing stories on her popular blog.
A dear friend pressed her copy of Somewhere Safe with Somebody Good (the latest in the Jan Karon Mitford series) into my hands with these words:
“I almost stopped reading this book because nothing was happening, but once I got past the first 50 pages, I started to see something going on after all."
Oh for a good night’s sleep.
Anyone had one recently?
Most everyone I know complains of trouble sleeping. Either they can’t fall asleep, or - most commonly - they can’t STAY asleep.
Since I first experienced the pernicious symptoms of menopause about 15 years ago, I’ve been likely to wake up about 4:00 a.m. and be unable to go back to sleep. My eyes pop open as if some evil sleep sprite has sprinkled wake-up dust on them.
Then the ticker tape of worries and anxieties begins to roll. I’m sure you have one of those too.
Time was that when I called my mother on the telephone it took several attempts to get through because her phone was always busy. She was forever talking to someone - either my aunt or one of my cousins, or most likely, one of her many “lady friends” who lived in the neighborhood.
But I can’t remember the last time I got that annoying buzz of the busy signal when I placed a call to her phone number. And it isn’t because she has call waiting or that her phone goes directly to voice mail.
Dear Reader,
Until recently, I hadn’t written a real letter in at least 20 years. And when I say a "real letter,” you know I’m referring to the kind written in ink on pieces of paper, folded neatly and placed into an addressed envelope, and posted in a mailbox to wend its way to the recipient.
A couple of months ago, a fellow writer and I decided to engage in just such a written correspondence.
This entire week has been gloriously beautiful here in the Midwest, much more of a late summer feeling than an early fall, with warm sun bearing down and cloudless azure skies above. I haven’t felt called to decorate with fall flowers inside or out, although many of my neighbors have placed colorful pots of golden mums on their porches and decks, and hung fall foliage wreaths on their front doors.
Yesterday was a blissfully free day, and I gave in and spent the afternoon on my deck, feet up, books at hand. I left my phone inside the house so I wouldn’t be tempted by the internet, and spent over two hours reading, dozing, taking a few moments every now and then to gaze up and savor the full leafed green trees around me. There was a poignancy to the day, one of the few like it left to grace us as we barrel full speed ahead into fall and then winter. I was mindful of being poised on the edge of that change.
