Once, when I was walking in the Belvidere Park, I stopped to chat with a woman. She suggested instead of writing down the hard things, why don’t I write down the good stuff?
When I think back about the little community I found by walking at the same time twice a day, people were kind when I spilled my story, offering friendship and steadiness. One couple, married 60 years, shared how their relationship weathered hard times, said mine could too. I miss those regular friends, since I’m now living on a farmette where fields separate neighbors, though I wave at passing trucks when I walk the dogs. Sometimes a neighbor stops and we chat.
So why don’t I write down the good stuff? When I advise friends about the trouble in their lives, I suggest they write the story to get the poison onto the page. Drama stings enough to take our attention and I’ve found relief and answers.
But lately I’ve started listing my consolations and desolations. I’m surprised the good outnumbers the bad. Sometimes they are routine like a good meal (I still talk about the taco dinner from Quinta Carmina in Belvidere), seeing young people chase their dreams on American Idol, dandelions in the fields. And the not so ordinary—bridge building between two friends, tired muscles after putting up hay, leaves making shadows in moon light, roadside wild roses, a lightning bug in the barn.
Even in these perilous times I’m consoled by writing down what’s good in a day.
I’m Katie Andraski and that’s my perspective.
