This morning I wrapped up an article about a new friend, Susan McNamee. Susan, 67, lives here in Denver. In her teens, all she ever wanted to do was be a mom.
A few years ago, I spoke to a lively group of women that had been started by my friend Joan Rogliano, a divorced realtor living in Colorado. The Wildflower Group had been formed out of a need for an organization to tend to the needs of recently-widowed and divorced women.
The four Indonesian boys, all small but ranging in age from 12 to 14, led us along a tree-lined path. The fenceposts to either side of us as we left the island village were sprouting trees, a testament to the proliferating growth and superb soil of these many islands.
My friend Susan stared at me in disbelief. “You’re going to do what?” She was incredulous. “Go to Africa alone and climb Kilimanjaro at sixty?” She paused for a deep breath.
My neighbor across the street lost her husband about a year ago. The huge house she now inhabits is an awful lot of work, as is the yard. The other morning after a seven-inch snowfall, our mutual neighbor was clearing her driveway, as he usually does, as I was digging out my own.
Several weeks ago, a woman commented on an article I’d done about getting older vs. getting old. She told a story about taking a bad fall over a concrete curb, sitting there for a few moments, and then moving on.
Sometime this spring, I will be looking at houses along the Pacific Coast, an area I fell in love with in the 1990s. This is the culmination of a long-held dream. But it’s far more than that…
This is not about being superior or judgmental or “lookitme.” It is, however, about choices. This man didn’t exercise before his accident. I did. Including yoga six days a week…
Jill was in the kitchen, right in the middle of making cookies. I’d been at their house for about a week, which is typical around Christmas, when I spend my annual two weeks at their home in Eastern Washington.
Early this morning, I got up to do my exercises and mediation before heading to the airport for my annual Christmas visit at my best friend’s family’s house in Spokane, WA. Before I put the last bits and pieces in my luggage for the long drive to the airport, I checked my inbox.