If you’ve been following along this journey for the past couple of years, you know I’ve made some major life changes. Divorced, moved, lost a great deal of weight then faced health challenges, and finally, and quietly, welcomed an amazing man into my life, an event I neither anticipated nor actively pursued. But it happened. Now, sitting here on the first day of the year that will see me turn 50, I have once again felt a calming resolve that this year will be the year I take my journey in a new direction.
As I stood over the stove making breakfast, it was suggested I was going to too much trouble. How confusing…it is in my kitchen where I feel most relaxed. I love to cook and bake, creating a dish simply with flavor is one of my most treasured activities. Being in the kitchen, and in particular, this kitchen, brings back memories of my Grandmothers’ kitchens, so very different in design and function from each other, each teaching me unique culinary skills. On reflection, these hearts of the home were my first classrooms. I learned to read by searching the neatly labeled jars for the correct ingredient to bring to the prep space on the white Hoosier cabinet in my Dad’s mother’s kitchen. Estimation, weights, substitutions, and straight from the farmyard resourcefulness were practiced and perfected around a crackling woodstove and well-worn and oiled farmhouse table, lovingly built by my Mother’s father in his workshop. At times, I am convinced I was born in the wrong era; at heart, I am convinced I am a pioneer, plunked down by happenstance in the heart of my city.
The kitchen is also where I create my candles and other products. There is such satisfaction in turning out a new lip balm or solid lotion that soothes the skin naturally. The creative process pushes me to blend and calculate, inhale and sample each batch, exploring how to make each successive recipe closer to all natural and wholesome. It’s a learning curve. Recently I’ve dragged a small folding chair to the kitchen beside my great-grandmother’s prep table, allowing me a place to rest an aching back or simply pause and reflect with a cup of tea in hand or a pen and journal at the ready to capture thoughts and observations for my novel. It occurs to me as I flip bread in the pan that I seem to be taking on some of the traits and goals of my main character; perhaps I am just realizing that I’ve written her from my subconscious more than I had intended.
So while stirring the sun-dried tomatoes into the translucent onions that formed the base of this morning’s scrambled eggs, a vision of my ideal life began to form in my head, playing out around me like a hologram I am watching from the corner. So many details need to be put onto paper for a reality-check. I’m not prepared to share just yet…to cast these thoughts and dreams out now would be as awkward for me as it would be for me continually post selfies on social media. Fine for others, just not for me. Although it could reasonably be suggested that my writing is my version of a selfie…fair enough. Oh, in time, there will be a “reveal” when there is a stop along my journey I feel is ready to share as a lesson learned. But for this moment, my “share” is this: we are never too old to stand at the fork in the road and chose, by heart, by faith, or wonder, to step with excitement, resolve, and even a touch of fear onto a path that has faint tracks of those whom have traveled before.
Happy travels wherever the road may lead you in 2016!