"America"

For whatever reason, my daughter didn't like this song, though I do. Again, even with all the 'God' language, this also seems a better choice for an anthem than 'bombs bursting in air'. And again, no one asked me, alas.

This morning I played my song, and you'd think I would learn my lesson, but I did it again: I planned out what this evening's post would be, in considerable detail. And then my day happened. I had had this clear idea of the outline of the day, and it crashed into smithereens fairly early on, due to circumstances beyond my control. My daughter and I ended up having quite a nice day, pleasant low-key shopping with a great lunch in the middle (without having to be away on vacation in Maine or England), which seemed miraculous and eye-opening, for starters, given the inauspicious beginning.

And here I am, at the end of the day, and this morning's post ideas (made before the crash, and having nothing to do with my plans for the day) seem ridiculously outdated. As if, somehow, I had grown through the day, become a slightly different person by its end. The fact that I am, indeed, different, isn't really a surprise.

There is a part of me that is always striving to 'grow up' somehow: get better, become more responsible, more organized, more authentic and whole. I am always aware that my time here might be shorter than I know, but even if I have decades to go, that still doesn't feel like enough. What if I take up painting or cello playing at 75? There's so much I need to finish up before then! I want to figure me out, as best as I can, shake out the goo, clean the cracks, trim the trees, plant the seeds. I knew long ago that I would never be in danger of being bored.

Tomorrow I write the last post for this book, and I've decided to keep on to the next one. There's a lot of learning to be done, yet. Zoom, zoom.