I ran away to Maine with my husband 20 years ago, July 5, 1993. I've moved to San Diego, to Alabama, back to Tennessee....all in July. In July 2009, I saw the slippery, exposed, and fragile crust of the earth, ease some of her mounting tension, when Old Faithful let go at the same time that nearby geyser, Beehive, erupted. In July 2010, I began living my dream of writing for a living, covering my first story as a stringer reporter for the Shopper News.
This July, my life is changing again. I've quit work and school to finish my novel and my diet. My mom begins chemotherapy and that's a move of a sort. Moving from security and trust that she will "always be there" to the reality of the futile beauty of life. Being alive means that one day, we won't be.
So, why diet? I could be in a car wreck tomorrow, or get cancer, too. So why put myself through the torture of restricting my calories and the grind of working out? Because living is more than eating. Living is more than dying. I once heard someone say, it's about "making your dash count:"
Tomorrow begins another July; another journey---wanna come along?
