More than twenty years ago, Will and I’d traveled to France with dear friends. Though my sciatica was acting up, I’d not wanted to flatten anyone’s adventurous spirit, so whenever it was our pleasure to explore picturesque towns, nestled in the foothills of a majestic mountain range, I’d kept quiet about the fact that my pain was on the upswing, day after day, until my steps had become so labored as to have slowed everyone down.
It was during our stay in Provence that I’d gained the insight-driven wisdom to enjoy myself on level terrain on my own by engaging with shop keepers on the lower levels of each picturesque village whenever Will and our friends, Nancy and Marty, came upon a path that beckoned all three to wander uphill. Even so I’d not yet learned to listen to my body, suggesting that I’d tended to push myself beyond bearing the intensity of my nerve pain, so that by the time we arrived home from France, I found myself bedridden with searing pain for many months.
By that time, our sons were fully grown, and since I’d never entertained the habit of watching daytime TV, you might ask—Annie, how did you pass the time?
I’d alternated, quite naturally, between reading and writing. As this extended period of being bed bound was experienced before becoming a blogger, I decided to spend my time productively by penning the outline of the saga of my life on notecards. And in this way were hundreds of notecards penned, day after day after day, though I’d had little awareness of the fact that my need to be productive had been naturally fulfilled.
You see, during the many years that I’d spent teaching parenting classes, countless participants suggested that I write a book outlining my theories concerning disciplining children with love, knowledgeable consistency and humor. Later, following a dark time in my marriage, I decided to expand my stories to include insights that swarm inside my head to this very day concerning classic misunderstandings that had caused my loving relationship with Will to begin to unravel quite soon after we’d both said ‘for better or worse’.
And now, decades later, as much of my time is spent bed bound, again, the time seems ripe to review each notecard in hopes of encouraging my mind to remain on the storyteller’s track (unless something of consequence takes precedence within my current family-minded life)..
As many memories have been housed within three long notecard-sized file boxes, I’ll close for today in order to follow my intention to transfer box #1 from my home office onto the decorative writing desk that’s in my master bedroom, and upon opening box #1, we shall see which well-organized life experience pops up in 3D
🙋🏻♀️Annie
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