I have been thinking a lot about the way people mark time, for some people it is how many cups of coffee they drink, (my mom) how many road trips they take, (my sister) or how much barbecue sauce you consume, (my uncle) and I’m not joking he uses it for just about everything imaginable. A person does not have to know me very long to ascertain that I’m a computer junkie nor do I deny it but this impression is actually misleading. In truth I suspect that when I’m no more than worm food someone who had the unfortunate task of going through the incidentals of my life will realize that my life is in truth marked by paper. Books for certain, but letters as well, never mind that most of them were probably originally sent in an e-mail. Lately (within the past year) I’ve written an awful lot, personal letters, business letters, short stories, partial novel drafts etc. I hope that the things I am remembered most for are not those things which can be easily expressed on paper. I try to be the sort of person who gives what they can when they can if another person requires it whether it is a listening ear or a clean shirt and a hot shower. I hope that people say I laughed more than I cried (that’s difficult some days I’m trying) and gave to others more than I took from them. May it be said of me that I carried the troubles of others at least as often as I asked others to carry mine.
I do not claim to believe in a particular religion but I wholeheartedly believe in the presence of Guardian Angels. I’ve survived a few things because of them. I will even go so far as to say that some Guardian Angels are living breathing human beings. The friend who always manages to show up in some form at exactly the right moment even if they themselves are not aware of it at the time is one. I myself am aware of at least three that I have met. I believe the Providence or whatever you choose to call it has put these people in my life for a reason. One managed to stop me from doing something very stupid when I was younger. The other two have been there when my pride would not let me ask anyone for help fortunately they went over my head and I didn’t get a vote. I hope one day that if necessary I can be of similar help to someone else. If I get to pick the one thing for which I would be most remembered it would not be any book or story that I publish rather the one thing I hope is that someone who knows enough of my past says “there will never be another quite like her.” That would be something worth leaving behind.