First Word

I play Wordle. I love it. My opening word is alone. It has three vowels and four of the top ten letters. It works pretty well most days. But I got to wondering this morning why I picked it. Alone. I think perhaps my old subconscious was playing games with me. And I got to thinking about that because I was puzzling as to why I was having so much trouble lately coming up with topics for my morning musings. And one thing led right to another. The first thing I thought was how joyful we were when we built our hill country abode in 2009, and how wondrous everything felt. Then I thought of the days when it was my refuge as my wife’s illness progressed, and then my shelter after she passed as I slogged through my days of grief.

I got to thinking perhaps I was still there, in days of grief, which would explain my issues with getting excited about writing. Then I went outside and saw an iris getting ready to bloom. It was one of the bulbs we’d nurtured for fifty years from the garden of my wife’s aunt in Crowley, Louisiana. And that made me feel good. And I thought back to how good I felt yesterday at a party for a friend. As I did that, I realized I feel good more often than not these days.

And I thought maybe my troubles aren’t really troubles at all, they’re just a normal thing that happens to writers all the time. My best bet may be to slow down, relax, and get back to enjoying the simple things that surround me. My flowers and my trees. It’s a good time to do it, because its spring, the season of renewal when life returns, and we celebrate. So, that’s where I’m going and that’s what I’m doing. Oh, and one more thing, I’m changing that Wordle opening word, because I’m not alone no matter what my subconscious thinks.

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