i don't like endings.
the older i get the more i hate "interruption of same"... interruption of whatever's become everday, everyweek, or even every month or year.
let me give you some examples.
i like for thanksgiving to be the same meal every year. and me cooking everything the day of. i like calling granma, mama, and auntie patty and asking, "what i put in it again?" even though i already know. i still want to ask, you know.
i like that every year on the 4th, we pile up in the cr-v and head down to park in the same place to watch the city's fireworks show. every year we wait till the last 10 minutes to head on down (usually because i've just taken the apple pie out the oven) and navigate through all the cars heading to the same place, and end up at our favorite spot with a minute or less to spare.
i like seeing e off in the morning...i try to wake up so that i can tell him the same thing every morning, "i luv you...drive safely" and if i don't wake up (like this morning) i instruct him to kiss me even still, even though he hates to wake me when i'm sleeping. still, i tell him, "kiss me, so that i won't wake up and call your name when i don't see you."
its ritual. that's what it is. getting into the habit of something means establishing rituals.
i love rituals. i think rituals ground us and gives our lives rhythm and beat...they give us a tiny, little semblance of beat and rhythm in the syncopation of life.
life is like jazz music...when you add rituals to it you learn to dance in between the syncopation.
endings sometimes mean the end of rituals.
short rituals.
like going out in the summer and picking tomatoes for sauce to put up, and zucchinis for weekly zucchini bread.
like me and the kids watching "the price is right" every morning during the summer while eating breakfast.
like making tamales at christmas.
like going to the same class weekly for a semester or quarter.
like sitting down every night to knit a little more, or quilt a little more on a work in progress.
these are little rituals that play into our days...and add some sort of stillness to the constant movement of life...time.
i think sometimes i hoard them. i do.
i hoard experiences and beg for them not to end. quietly i ask them to stay around for just a little longer so i can get ready for newness...or lack of sameness.
though i may be polite, they don't oblige me and quickly time/season/life changes and its on to the next.
but, its okay...because soon enough i find myself immersed into the ritual of a new season.
like now its:
schooling the kids, taking more writing classes, and preparing for the holidays.
its funny...i was sitting here moping about the ending of a writing class with two amazing professors...and i started pulling out handouts from the class, going over feedback i'd gotten throughout the semester and i sat and thought.
i thought, how much i was going to miss their weekly feedback, their exercises that broadened my writing mind...and writing and interacting with this class.
its then that i started to write this post in my mind...like so many writers do...write stories in their minds.
and then...it hit me.
i'm a writer...and maybe that's why i hoard experiences like i do.
whoever you are...lean into it.
peace and luv,
ki

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