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Time Marches On


It is Monday morning as I write this, another Sunday come and gone without a love note digitally delivered to my list of loyal readers. Like most people this year, I find that days run together without trips, birthday parties, or appointments on the calendar.

The changing leaves on the trees have been a clear indication of fall, although even those seem to be lingering this year. Winter solstice is next week, but the orange and red foliage seems desperate to hang on, as if leaving the trees bare would be far to depressing for the world to see right now.


I, for one, am embracing the showy fall here in north Texas and have developed a rather intense leaf collecting habit. I’ve pressed them in heavy book and even used some to make an art project through a recovery art exchange.


Eventually, winter will set in. The temperatures here have dropped already and the warm boots donned. Mine see more rainy days than snow, but I’m grateful for their warmth as I deliver meals on Fridays, rain or shine. My weekly Meals on Wheels route is one way to at least know when Fridays roll around.



Time passes, whether we remain aware of the date or not. When I look back at the passage of time in recent years, I’m reminded of all the times I took the road less traveled. The road that requires all the courage I could muster in that moment. The road that led to new possibilities. Those roads led me to sobriety, a loving marriage, and a new weekend adventure.

There are specific dates all of these things occurred, but I had no idea at the time the lasting impact they would have on my life. I noted my wedding anniversary in an Instagram post this week. What my husband and I tend to celebrate even more is the day we met. January 26th, 2021 will make seven years since that day, and we just keeping growing stronger together.

I hope the seeds I’m planting now will lead to new rewarding journeys. I have hired a coach for a three month program. She specializes in somatic healing, which I know very little about. All I know is that I’d like to find new ways to stop the snowball thinking I’ve managed to keep at bay for a couple of years. My runaway thoughts are usually not based in truth, and the beauty today is that I can recognize that.


I’ll be participating in a couple of other journeys in the spring, starting with a short course from my friend Tammi based in beautiful rituals for our daily lives. I already use many of them, so my decision to participate was less about the content than it was the network of women involved. Wildflowers look most beautiful when they grow in clusters.


I’ll also be journeying through the tarot next year with my friend Laurie. Cards interest me these days, and I use several to guide my intentions each week. My intentions help me stay focused when my thoughts feel like a pinball.


A new year is on the horizon, and while I know the world at large is ready to close the book on 2020, it’s been quite joyous to revisit milestones in my life that made it possible to navigate this year with my mental health intact. Not everyone was so fortunate, and I’m saddened by the lives claimed, not by the disease making headlines but by countless other battles faced every day.


In loving memory: Paul Lee Marino, 1978-2020


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