I noticed recently that southernerners are a bit morbid in this vein. I caught myself saying to Matt when we were home in Tennessee, "Oh Robert Urich. He was a great actor. Died of cancer." Southerners, you can hear me say it, right? You know the exact cadence. But why does that stay in my mind that way? Why do I share that detail? It made my head tilt in interest, but also made me smile. I come by it honestly I guess.
Now the summer is starting. Every green thing in Los Angeles will turn brown eventually, but not me. This is another natural progression I don't have to follow whole heartedly, habitually. Instead this summer is for scooping my life up with a big fisherman's net and seeing what is substantial enough to stay and what I will watch and let slip through the knots. I am so ready to let go of so much and the first wave goodbye is to grief. I am tired of mourning so many could haves, or worse should have beens. Goodbye sticky, ruddy grief. I'm done with you.