Standing at the Trailhead of Winter

I left my marriage nine years ago. While I agreed to see if we could work things out a couple of years ago, it became clear, for me, the marriage was over. I asked my husband to leave me alone, but true to his nature he continued to try and be a part of my life. He would text several times a day, trying to carry on a conversation. No matter how many times I asked him to stop, he wouldn't. I finally blocked him completely. His calls went straight to voicemail so I could delete them without having to listen to them. Being free from his noise was absolute bliss. The last year we've had very little contact, and over the last two months there has been no contact at all. I'm ready to call this marriage done, so I retained a lawyer and had the first meeting to learn what I'm facing. It's not pretty, but I'm ready to cut ties completely. I told my lawyer I would talk to my husband and ask him to sign the papers without fussing and dragging this out, but deep down I knew...

The end of the semester brought with it lots of not feeling like doing much of anything. We had a couple of days of snow, which was wonderful as it allowed me the opportunity to get out and snowshoe, but those days were followed by bitter cold then a warming trend. Now the snow is gone and the ground is soft, muddy, and just lots of yuck. The dogs track in the mud, so I've had to sweep and mop after them, adding to the feelings of just not wanting to have to do anything.  Those feelings, while I go through this every now and then, have stuck around much longer than usual. I was doing the daily routine -- walking the dogs in the morning, playing with them, taking Teddie to his sniff games classes and Sunny to his companion dog classes -- but the between time of these activities has been a lot of vegging out in front of the TV and spending way too much time online, reading article after article addressing the bad happening in this country.  Today, I finally admitted to myself I'...

Seven months have passed since I last posted. I've been vacillating about continuing the blog, mostly leaning the direction of no. But the last few weeks . . . something has been stirring, reawakening. It's still a bit groggy and might take some time to come fully awake. That's okay. Like with many areas of my life these days, I'm going to let it take all the time it needs. Some changes will be made, starting with the title. I started this blog when I was 45 years old. I'm now 59. My children are young adults and doing well. I live in a little green with yellow accents Craftsman style house in a village in the middle of corn and soybean fields. Two Australian shepherds keep me company. I spend my days thinking about the end of my teaching career and the beginning of my retirement.  Which is why the title Standing at the Trailhead of Winter seems fitting for the blog.

I've started a new endeavor. Not sure anything will come of it, but as my mom always said, "Nothing ventured, nothing gained." So, I'm venturing. We'll see if there's anything gained. I have tons of photos on my computer. Just tucked away in folders. Every now and then I'll open the folders and go through them. I thought about printing them and making albums, but I'm really the only one who would enjoy flipping through the pages. I thought about having a couple put on canvas to hang on my walls, and I still might do this. Then I thought: Why not put them on a photo platform and see if I can make some money from them? For the last six or seven months, I've been thinking through if I should try this or just let it go (yeah, I tend to take a long time to come to some decisions). I talked about this with the kids, and they shrugged, giving me the standard young person response, "You do you." So I'm doing me. A couple of days ago I finally...

For whatever reason, I've become a crier. I cried last week when Angel Baby filled me in on what was happening with him and his girlfriend. He'd been counting down the days until she came home for a couple week's break from the military, only to have her avoid getting together with him. After four days of being told maybe we can get together later , he ended the relationship. Tears slipped down his cheeks as he sat cross-legged in the oversized chair. My heart was breaking for him, and I fought my own tears, keeping them in check until after we talked a bit longer. Only when Angel Baby was out of the room did I let the tears have their way. A few nights ago, I was watching Life Itself  when the tears started up again. While the story itself is a bit on the cliched side, I was still moved by the idea of two people being so incredibly in love (most likely because I don't have this, and most likely because I will never know what this kind of love feels like). That aside,...

Like usual, Ado and I set off for our morning walk. A bit later than usual since I slept right up until 7:45. Then I snuggled for another half hour against Ado. He's the best cuddle buddy ever. So when we finally started off, the sun was shining, warming the morning so nicely. While we walked I thought I'd cycle up to the farm to return the egg cartons that I'd been collecting over the last couple of months. I wasn't about to let this beautiful fall day get away from me without a cycling trip of some kind. Once Ado was settled in after we returned to the apartment and after I aired up the tires on Sweetness, I started out. Only to realize the wind had come up during the time I fixed Ado's breakfast, geared up, packed the egg cartons in the pannier, and stepped back outside. Not just a little wind, either. No. This wind, though I didn't know it until after I checked the weather once I got home, was blowing over 23 miles per hour, gusting up to 40 mph. There was...

I was sitting in my oversized chair last evening, watching a new Netflix show, when the very top of the full moon edged above the apartment building next door. I watched it rise, finally appearing entirely. I switched off the TV, spread out my meditation blanket, lit the candle, and turned off the one lamp in the living room. In the yellow light of the moon and the flickering candlelight, I settled onto the blanket. Ado came over and curled up right against my legs, and together we spent the next half hour in meditation. Well, I tried to in any case. The moon shining through the piece of stained glass art in the window. Maybe it was the effect of the full moon. Maybe it was the warmth of Ado pressing against my legs, feeling his breathing, feeling his energy. Whatever it was, I just couldn't go into full-on meditation. Instead, a memory from long ago surfaced, one that I've not visited in a very, very long time. Because I'm ashamed of the decision I made. But last e...

Last night, just as I was shutting things down to call it a day, I checked in at my email account to see if anything new came in. The only new item was from a poetry journal I had sent a couple of poems to. As is wont to happen these days, I felt that familiar sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I asked myself: do you really want to open that now? Self replied: well, no, but now or tomorrow, it's all the same.  I really didn't want to go to bed disappointed, but my curiosity got the best of me and I opened the email. The first thing I noticed was how long the email was compared to the previous rejection emails. So I started from the beginning, kept reading, and learned one of the poems had been selected for publication in this poetry journal. Then, I started crying. Yep. I cry over the Thanks but no thanks emails, and I cry over the Congratulations emails. I am that person. Funny Delightful Son came in as I was sitting at my desk, still basking in the feeling of ha...

This morning I opened my email to find the following: "We are happy to inform you that your application has been accepted, and we're looking forward to displaying your work as part of the show." Does this mean I can call myself an artist?

Finally. An acceptance letter. And while the magazine is a small one, probably one most people haven't heard of, it's still a magazine, and my short story will be published in its January/February/March 2011 issue. This will be my first short story publication credit, my second publishing credit overall. It's a start. And good timing, too. This Thursday I'm participating in a faculty reading at my college. I had already decided to read this particular story, and now I can begin by saying the story has been accepted for publication. I've never been in this position before, being able to say something I'm sharing with the audience gathered for the reading will actually be offered to a wider audience in the not too distant future. I've been thinking for some time now that in order for me to have any credibility in the classroom, teaching writing, I need to write and publish. My thinking is now a reality. What a great feeling.