Look Back


It was a make-a-to-do-list-then-never-look-at-it kind of weekend. It wasn’t bad, exactly, just full of little unexpected detours.

On Saturday, I got together with a mentor from USC to catch up and to get some notes on a script I’d recently written and rewritten and submitted to a contest. I was embarrassed to realize it had been over a year since we’d last gotten together mostly due to me spinning my wheels trying to find My Direction. So it was good to see her again. We had coffee and scones and talked about scripts and about the state of the world and generally had a good visit. I confessed, somewhat embarrassed, to the fact that is started therapy.

“Good.” She said. “Everyone needs therapy. I do therapy. We do therapy. It’s good for you: keep you from making bad decisions.”

I felt a sense of relief to hear this from one of the most down-to-earth practical people that I knew: it wasn’t just for the sensitive and self-involved.

Later in the evening the Curmudgeonly Lion and I had made tentative plans to have a couple of friends over for dinner, but the plans fell through. Instead, I went out for a run and then puttered around the backyard for a while: pulling up the spent ranunculus plants and trimming back the monsterous oregano shrub and pulling up weeds and bermuda grass. My sister, Bean, had over-bought compost for her patio garden and had given me the leftover bags which I figured could be put to good use on the flower bed if I could clear some of the overgrown undergrowth.

It was a good plan until I went inside for dinner and could barely move from so much bending and reaching.

Le sigh.

But I went right back to it the next day. I uprooted as many weeds as I could then layers on the compost and covered it all with landscape cloth. So now it looks… Exactly the same as before, just tidier.

My time was limited: I only had about an hour of backyard time before I had to clean up to head to a memorial service on the USC campus for a mentor who died suddenly a month or two ago.

Oops. I thought, as I applied eye makeup. This is going to end in tears. Oh well.

The memorial service was lovely and well attended. A cluster of old classmates formed during the reception afterwards: beginning the tradition of reunions-at-funerals. It was good to see familiar faces and to learn what everybody was up to these days.

Afterwards, I drove home to touch base before heading to my writer’s group, and once writing notes were given, and dinner eaten, and Game of Thrones watched the weekend was over.

So now it’s back to the working week: therapy tonight, coffee with a friend tomorrow, a continuing jog on life’s treadmill. But what can you do? It beats the alternative.

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~ by Gwydhar Gebien on May 6, 2019.

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