… she was very simply and honestly recording her experience, unvarnished and raw, unedited. Married in 1898, she must have been growing up in these villages in the 1880’s. I wanted to know what it was really like and she told me in remarkable detail.
Up here in the mountains of northern New Mexico, in an ancient village that has gone through more than its share of hardships, whose suffering would put mine to shame, two friends spent a day celebrating what it is to live.
And why should this matter to you? Why am I writing this to you? Because I think we are universal and the struggles I fight are the same as those you do. Because we are human. And there is no escaping it, my friends. We are in this together and whatever any one of us can do to help with that, matters.
I don’t want to grow old before my time and I fear I may have during these last 2 ½ years of shingles… I choose strength. I choose to stay strong, to get strong again—one day at a time, one foot in front of the other. I can already feel a glimmer of my old self returning and I’m thrilled.
I don’t get to just give lip service in a blog post to what I want and then have it happen. I don’t get to simply decide to accept my situation and then have it be somehow eased. I have work to do…
But something vital I’ve come to know is this: no matter how hard it is to hold on sometimes, we are not disposable. Our selves, our dogs, our relationships, are not to be shunted aside when they become too difficult.
… and standing in the middle of that street, with no traffic, in the midst of all those abandoned buildings, the mercantile and houses, it was so quiet… It was almost as if I was sensing the silent footprints of a world now out of fashion.