2000-05-22
Dear Diary:

����Today I turned 49.

����Me--the sister, the daughter, the granddaughter of suicides, part of three generations of women who walked away from life--today I turned 49.

����Last night I leafed through the pictures, looked back on the years, considered the pain, considered the blessings.

����My mother's mother, my mother, my sister ...

GrandmotherMotherSister

����... three women who died young, who never had time chisel lines into their faces, or turn their hair white as it has turned mine.

����One I never knew.

����One I can barely remember.

����One I will always wonder if I could have loved her better.

����I wish I could love better, that my heart was less wary. I wish when a hand offered friendship I could just reach out and take it ...

����But enough of the pain, consider the blessings.

����Today I turned 49.

����The only woman in three generations who lived to see a child grown, my daughter the last of my mother's line. I believe that with her the sad chain is broken. I hope that she too will live to see a child grown, that she too will elude the black dogs of despair.

����Do they nip at her heels as they have nipped at mine? I doubt she would tell me if it was so, but somehow I feel they have lost track of her scent. In a few weeks she dons cap and gown to mark another completion, and makes the transition to independent adult.

����Transitions, so many transitions ...

����Today I turned 49.

����I awoke nestled in the back of my life constant, my lover for 30 years, my husband for 25. Yes, I marvel that he still wants me, that my flesh still calls for him after all this time. All this shared time ...

����And though sometimes I miss the hot howling hunger of our teens, I would not trade that for the tenderness of long knowing, of past mistakes forgiven, of love shared through eyes open wide.

����Today I turned 49.

����And as I begin the first day of my 50th year, I consider the pain, I consider the blessings.

����It's very good to be alive.

--Marn

Old Drivel - New Drivel


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Want to delve into my sordid past?
She's mellllllllllllllting - Wednesday, Feb. 15, 2012 - Back off, Buble - Monday, Dec. 19, 2011 - Dispersed - Monday, Nov. 28, 2011 - Nothing comes for free - Monday, Nov. 21, 2011 - None of her business - Friday, Nov. 04, 2011 -


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This template is a riff on a design by the truly talented Quinn. Because I'm a html 'tard, I got alot of pity coding to modify it from Ms. Kittay, a woman who can make html roll over, beg, and bring her her slippers. The logo goodness comes from the God of Graphics, the Fuhrer of Fonts, the one, the only El Presidente. I smooch you all. The background image is part of a painting called Higher Calling by Carter Goodrich which graced the cover of the Aug. 3, 1998 issue of The New Yorker Magazine.

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�2000, 2001, 2002 Marn. This is me, dagnabbit. You be you.