How dark the shale

Wales, United Kingdom, February 2000.

Noth frowned, then wondered why he mattered so much to Sooz. Glancing at Dardram, Noth wasn’t reassured by that man’s slight nod. Gripping the pad, Noth replied to Squee: Any of you have a weapon in case it decides not to let me go?

How much of your life do you truly possess, Squee answered. Go on, Squee added, I doubt they’ll keep you more than a minute or two.

How much OF our lives do we possess indeed. The writing above is from my fictional WIP, of which I read a few chapters this morning. I'm feeling better emotionally, but I slept like crap, went back to sleep and am now suffering from post-nap BLEH. Even if the nap was from five to seven a.m.

However, it's still earlier-ish in the morning, time to write something. I told my husband that writing these posts lightens my heart, my authorial heart. I miss being a writer something fierce! One of these days, I tell myself. It's just a matter of time.

Time is kinda on my brain right now. The photo at the top is twenty-five years old, DUDE! We were living in England then, and for our twelfth wedding anniversary we went to Wales. It was COLD, oh my goodness, but BEAUTIFUL, even the shale, which went on for what seemed like MILES, then we descended into a valley of green, and I'll shall endeavor to remember that as long as I can, lol.

I wrote about the shale in The Possibility of What If, it was so striking! Wales is known for shale, which I didn't know back then, but knew fully before we left. Twenty-five years ago seems like a long time in many facets; my kids were eleven, nine, and seven. I was a mere thirty-five, HAH! I assumed the free would would stay as such. Assuming can make dorks of me and....

Anyway, the past has been flitting through my head, slightly easing my heart about the present. My heart is inundated in THINGS TO DO. Like stitch on my Mr. Carter quilt but not worry if hearts are placed upside down when I distinctly basted them so the fabric's design would be right side up. Seems that ship has sailed.

The pinkish heart with lines of flowers is correct, but the blue heart with flowers upside down is...what it is. As well as the dark blue heart with upside down flowers in the top left corner. Kinda indicative of life right now, but that's okay too.

I need to write emails to pertinent elected officials. 'Nuff said about that, but if you require clarification, make your way through this slog.

I have other sewing to enjoy, machine sewing even! Yet my Kawandi-inspired quilt also requires attention. I took it downstairs last night and stitched on the sofa, what a thrill!

I'm pondering what being married for thirty-seven years is all about; that's longer than how old I was when I went to Wales, OMG! Huh, crazy! Not that I've been alive that many years SINCE I went to Wales, but when added up.... Maybe that's too much to wrap my head around.

I'm peering around for Future Me. She's been absent lately. Past Me isn't near either, maybe she doesn't want any kind of spoilers.

What might I tell Past Me, if I could pop back in time to Wales 2000. I'd have told her to bring REALLY WARM outerwear. I've had said to truly enjoy those three kids because soon enough they'd all be teenagers. I'd have entreated her to be more aware how precious is our husband, and to be patient with the writing once it began. I wouldn't start writing until 2006, nineteen years ago now. Time's weird, when you go back and forth through years, decades, eras. Time doesn't mean jack at the moment, as I feel stuck in 1962 or thereabouts. When civil rights were still being fought for, when the Cold War was still in force. When my own parents were still in high school and my existence wasn't even considered.

Yet here I am today, Valentine's Day 2025. I'm an old married, an abuela. My heart feels weary, also strangely young. I know why for the former, no idea about the latter. Not gonna question it though. I'm just going to wrap up this slice of writing, because even this is writing. It's a lifeline, a balm, a piece of my heart and soul set into words, splayed for perusal on the internet. How much of my life do I truly possess? Just enough to say: Here I am. Happy Valentine's Day to you.