Besides the repairs to my house (long overdue) which meant I was out of my comfortable bed, the month began with the possibility of my blog being deleted. The thought that two years work could be gone—poof! into a cyber black hole made me think about my commitment to this medium.
Then, Fay tumbled into Florida, and one of my favorite aunts (I just saw her last November!) made her transition. Coupled also with the passing of the artist, Christopher Gonzalez, with whom I always felt a strange affinity, it was time to take stock of everything.
All of these events made August one of those extended defining periods.
This strange, wonderful, frightening, ephemeral life (and cyber life).
It could all be gone in the twinkling of an eye.
So, what’s a writer to do?
I’ve decided to live my life like those dancers whom I’ve always admired—their ability to fling their bodies through time and space without any consideration of ideas such as immortality or being remembered after they have died.
Writers can be so pompous…
And just when I was about to go into a serious funk, my sister, Judith, and my niece, Aleisha, came down from Orlando and we had a rollicking good, kick-off your shoes and dance party for my sister-in-law, who will be leaving for India next week.
They reminded me that I should continue to do the things that I love to do and to spend as much time with those whom I love.
It’s really the only way to live.