A Whiff of Smoke

Today I had lunch with a few cousins. It was nice to see them. I sat across from one and she and I pretty much chatted the entire time. It was good to hear about her life; her joys, her sorrows, her interests. I did not know that she loves dancing. 

She told me about a friend who was her dance partner for many years. She said they went through a period of dancing every evening, every evening! That is a lot of dancing. When she spoke of it, her eyes sparkled. She looked happy. She said it indeed made her happy. That dance partner endured a stroke about 18 months ago. The complications of it, however, ended his life a year ago.

This cousin has had some bumps in the road, as have we all. But she found something she loved and she did it. She actually did it. 

How many of us, myself included and maybe especially, do not do the extra things we want to do. Situations or attitudes or stuff become obstacles that we think are too difficult to work around, so we concede. 

I don’t want to continue to concede. I am caring for my 90 year-old mother who can now do very little about any of her missed opportunities. Perhaps she wanted to dance or sing or play the piano or skydive. 

There are not burning drives to do anything specific, but there may be small, innocent simmers. I’m not sure at the moment I can name one.

But I do want to be open to the whiff of campfire and see where the blue-orange flames and smoke may lead me. 

Author: Rebecca Hendrixson

Hello, I'm Rebecca. I am a wife and mother and freelance writer. I love to share honest thoughts, anecdotes, incidents and encouragement. I am documenting my one year of being 60 years old. Join me on the journey. And please leave comments or send me an email. I will respond. We are all in this together. Come be my comrade.

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