I don’t want to think about when I last wrote to you. I feel and look like a different person. Inside and out.
It is overwhelming for me to explain these differences.
They may not even appear to you, but they are shouting loud and clear to me.
Yes, I hear voices, all the time. Perhaps you do, too.
Or you do not to listen to them…
Today, you’re probably different that you were a few months ago, too. We’re changing all the time, if we’re lucky and open to change. I like change. If we’re buoyant, strong, “resilient” ~ that buzziest of psychological words these days.
When I broke my arm on December 14, I cut off all my hair. There was only so much I wanted to impose on my husband Marty who was doing everything there is to do around this place. Cleaning, cooking, caring for our dogs. Chauffeuring me hither and thither, here, there and everywhere.
Since then, and after another haircut, I am utterly shorn. I not only have “wash and wear hair,” I have “get up and go hair.”
The hair is but a superficial difference. Inside, where I have lived these 63 years, or made a semblance of living, the landscape is transformed. My ebullient personality, my default mode, is but a cover, I will confess. It’s a great mask behind which the real me lives. A me, no one really wants to know.
I don’t blame them. I’m getting a little tired of her, too.