Am I home yet?

What happens when you lose your inspiration to write a story?

The joy has been sapped. The excitement gone. It feels like pulling teeth. Well moving to Southern California has felt the same. Although I knew the reality, I packed for a vacation that I’d never return. The joy and excitement of being with my grandchildren was a bonus. But after a couple of weeks of fun and games, “Is this where I live now?” My belongings followed me about three weeks later around the same time my car arrived. Reality set in as the summer’s scorching heat melted my spirit. Everything I owned was in a box in the garage. I wanted to sit out there in my office chair to contemplate my life in boxes. The oven like space made it impossible. I just wanted one suitcase. It seemed everything I needed was in that suitcase now in a box in the garage among 80 other boxes. When I needed toothpaste. When I needed my black jeans. When I wanted my Kindle to read books. “Its in the suitcase in a box in the garage” became my mantra. Finally, I started replacing items I couldn’t find. My quilting supplies. Toothpaste. Hand towel. Laundry bags. Fortunately, I located items I needed. Paper cutting scissors. My crate of books to sell. My television found its way to my room. I squeezed my office chair and folding desk table into my room. I checked out books from the library. 

The heat of summer waned. With fall approaching I wanted my black jeans with matching black shoes. I finally had more spending money, so I bought new ones. For my birthday, I had bought books as a present to myself. My daughter out of state had sent me two boxes of books. When it came to reading, I was a happy camper. Unfortunately, the new black jeans didn’t fit. I held out that the pair in the suitcase still fit. 

One sunny fall day, my daughters went through the garage digging away at the boxes. Miraculously, the suitcase was found. It was like I had won the lottery. I screamed for joy. I now had my reading light, my lap desk, my quilting projects, my bible, my black jeans! Alas, they didn’t fit either. My small bookshelf was dug out and went into the empty closet. I had somewhere to put my books. My printer showed up and went on top of the bookshelf. The girls found a picture frame I needed. I was overjoyed. It was better than Christmas. I had stopped fighting the move. It didn’t feel like pulling teeth anymore. 

That same weekend, I found a friend from back home, SF East Bay Area, at an event nearby. She had moved south a few years earlier. She was delighted to see me and wondered why I came to see her at the book reading. It was wonderful to see my friend. We’re both SoCal girls now. I believed I was finally home and I still had all my teeth. 

Catching Up

To Blog or not to Blog, that is the question. So many prompts along the way. Are there ever good enough reasons not to write? I'll sum mine up, "I haven't been in the right head space to write." That should cover all my reasons that have kept me away from my blog for over a month. Today's inspiration was a poetry presentation live on YouTube. I heard so much of me in the poems, and questions and answers, I was compelled to post. 

Making the transition from the San Francisco Bay Area to the Inland Empire, East of LA has kept me floating in optimistic happenings to missing what got left behind as I yearn for what once was comfortable.

Thankfully I found a writer's group which is beginning to fill the void. So what I offer up today is the free write from class this week. It is supposed to be a lousy first paragraph of a story. I think I succeeded in opening a sightless story, and I'm surprised by what I came up with. What was I thinking? You be the judge. Here goes: 

    Upon arriving at the local rundown 7-11, I almost didn't see the gunman pointing his gun at the ice cooler. Oh Shit! I thought trying to balance my shock on my dutiful cane, the one the doctor prescribed. I, thinking myself to always be Super Woman thought I could use my cane to fight off the gunman. But really why was he pointing his gun at the ice cooler?

Well as you can see, I'm a better poet than fiction writer. Maybe you've never seen my poetry, but take my word for it. I think I'll follow up on the other prompts I have ignored.

To recap: To Blog or not to Blog. I'll  stick to my regularly scheduled musings on life and Blog.

The Second Beginning

 Where did this all start? Well in 2001, I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis. Marlon D, Bradford, my late then husband found a research neurologist who set me up in a MS research trial for Antagren now named Tysabri. I did well and when the trial was over, I had been receiving the drug. On the market for over 20 years, I'm still on it, which now is called a disease modifying therapy (DMT), albeit some roadblocks along the way. I have done great for most of the past twenty years, and I am utterly grateful to have lived the life I wanted thanks to the DMT.  In 2019, my MS health declined. I did my best and got a new job that worked with my disabilities. Eventually, I became a high risk for falling. It was more of a joke early on in my illness when I wrote my one woman play, How Do You Slip On A Banana Peel Gracefully? I joked I had a business card that said,"I fall down for living." Recently, after three major falls: a broken wrist, a fractured spine, and a displaced tooth and another chipped tooth in 13 months time, I knew something had to change. Marlon had died--as an ex-husband he had remained supportive--and my daughters graciously offered to take care of me. I was used to living alone and quite independent. Somehow, I had managed to take care of myself. I had become a featured poet in the San Francisco Bay Area and continued with my writer's group, B Street Writers Collective, through the worst of the pandemic. I had also started a micro publishing company, MoonShine Star Co. I was essentially happy with my life. To give up my independence was a difficult decision. My mobility issues were a problem. My chronic fatigue took my life away--75% of my energy went towards working 20 hours a week. I knew deep down I could no longer live alone. I needed help with the basic things like cleaning house and laundry. There were many pros and cons to accepting help from my daughters--the best was spending time with my grandchildren. Financial issues had become insurmountable and I didn't realize how much stress I was under. I needed my daughters' assistance to get by. Finally, I said, "Yes" when my one daughter invited me to come stay with her until some of my financial issues were resolved. As an ex-wife widow, I was waiting for Social Security benefits from my deceased ex-husband. Upon saying yes, it was a two week time-frame which started my New Adventure. I didn't have closure on all of my outstanding matters. I didn't say goodbye to almost all my friends. I did manage to say goodbye to my mother and father, although it was bittersweet. Letting go has been a terrible process and I think it will take time to deal with it all. Though I'm progressing. I've always tried to continue my positive outlook on life, thus My New Adventure Second Time Around. 

What Lies Ahead

 I woke up early in my new surroundings with filtered light coming from behind black out curtains. The house is quiet except for the fan which now has become white noise. My cat Mijo, who I wasn’t sure I wanted him with me on my adventure, sat near me on the bed. Stroking his fur I felt comforted. We’re on this leg of the journey together. I want to ruminate on how I got to where I am at, a house with my full of life grandchildren and more. I feel all that I left behind stacked up high enough to throw me over a cliff. I’m not just falling this time with eminent danger below. I’m sailing downward not knowing where I’ll land. There’s that insecure feeling of letting go. I need to trust in all that keeps me afloat which is my faith in God. As I breathe and relax into my flight, I am able to look forward to what lies ahead. 

Second Time Around

 So I’m doing it again. I quit my job as a pharmacy technician at Clayworth Pharmacy in Castro Valley and today is my first day of semiretirement. In two days,  I fly with my cat to Southern California to start my journey. Wait that sounds so easy. My daughter after making space for me in her home is flying up to get me and take ownership of “Mijo.” I’m packing for a vacation that I’ll never return to where I started. I love the San Francisco Bay Area. More recently it became my poet home as I traveled around the Bay from one feature to the next, and one open mic after another. I even had my own readings and brought in new poets to my writer’s group, B Street Writers Collective. Life changes and I’m off in a new direction, another New Adventure. I’m open to landing anywhere from Hawaii to Alabama or even Mexico City. For now there’s a good chance I’ll make a stop at the happiest place on earth, Disneyland. My adventure can’t get better than this.