Last year I decided I wanted to retire. I no longer wanted to write, to be a writer. This year 2024, I dabbled in painting, water colors-and collage. But writing haunts me. A friend said imagine your life’s narrative, create it, write it. And I did. It’s a rough draft and may or may not remain a rough draft.But it did bring back words. It was an exercise, an action. I think this year may be a year of ROUGH, rough considerations, rough experiences-rough drafts that need only to be observed, listened to, and set aside, at least for now.
My Story
I was born to a born-again mother. Slipped into consciousness avoiding all the usual pitfalls of birth. I was head first. Delivered quickly into the arms of the woman who wanted me. We were about to make the world spin. Between us history exploded and a future of fireworks sent our emotions bursting, oh ya.
Words of grandmas and great grandmas all the wise women surrounded mother and me, lullabies calmed us, the blues rattled us, and we lifted our prayers in battle song.
Everyday life was survival. For mother, she survived knowing; I survived not knowing. Until we came together in understanding, in knowing, in forgiving, in loving, in joy.
Mother reveled in simple things like eating; it wasn’t about obsession but fulfillment. I loved dressing in velvet, in lace, in denim, in a little black dress, in overalls, in high heels, in hiking boots. It wasn’t about disguise but performance.
This is about story, my story as I see it, as I imagine it, as I know it to be.
Mother is heavenly, it’s 2024 and I am nearing heaven although time is blurry. But I move forward. It’s not a crystal ball that predicts my near and distant future, but my words, my story, what I believe to be true.
It’s true I will be loved, as I am now. It’s true I will stop being mean and be kind, always kind. It’s also true I will receive much for those that love me are generous, and so am I. I give back. I expect nothing in return. I already have everything I need.
Bright colors, oh heck all colors, will enhance my world, will fill my dreams, will be my every day pallet; will be the medicine to make my heart beat, my arms raise, my feet keep moving. Green will be the color of my food. Yellow will be the color of my countenance; I will shine like the sun. Blue will be for sadness, gray for grieving; black for compost and thus renewal.
I will not stand still unless I am exhausted which will happen now and again because I will be dancing, spinning, flying off where I have always been afraid to go. I am not afraid. I am not alone. I am not useless.
I am safe.
Sherry Lee
Year of the Dragon
