"Like the fear that grabs ahold ya, let it go"

I went surfing tonight.  Well, surfing is probably a strong word,  I did a lot of floating on my board, as the waves were just about non-existent, and I am definitely a beginner and am not one that can just catch any little wave that rolls by.  But, it wasn't just the size of the waves that was keeping me from surfing more than I did.  I don't know how many times I said out loud the phrase "oh, that would have been a good one" as I missed the few waves that were the right size. I missed them for different reasons.  A few times I was just daydreaming, but mostly I would just wait until it was too late. I would decide as it was passing me by that I should have realized that was a good one.  As I sat there rising and falling with the swells, it occurred to me that it was very symbolic of my life.

Like many of you, I have some form of a bucket list.  And, I feel I have been fairly realistic in the things I want to accomplish.  There are a few long shots that will require a lot of luck, but mostly things that are doable with some extra work.  One of them is the memoir I am finally writing. This memoir has been in the making for about ten years.  I have been thinking about it for a very long time but every time I sit to write, I chicken out.  So many reasons, but if I could pick out the main one, it is fear.  Fear of failure or fear of success, or fear of how others will react, or all three. Either way, I have let opportunities pass me by time after time thinking I would just catch the next one. But, opportunities aren't like airplanes landing every five minutes.  I have been careless.  And it's time for that to stop.

One of my favorite songs is by The Zac Brown Band and is entitled "Let it Go".  It captures why I'm writing this memoir.  There is a part that says:

"But you only get once chance at life to leave your mark upon it

And when a pony he comes riding by you better set your sweet ass on it"

I'm a Texas girl and straight-forward thinking is the way I like it.   Leave the sugar-coating for someone more fragile, becauseI don't have time for it.  Especially now.  I've wasted too much time as it is.

"Like a sweet sunset in Georgia, Let it go. Like the fear that grabs ahold ya, Let it go."

I would write more, but it have to get back to editing my memoir.  But, check out the song.  They are killer musicians.

A Worthless Restraining Order and Taking Back Your Life

Excerpt from my book in progress, from a story about my step-father: 

"I wanted him out of our lives and I didn’t care what that meant.  I knew that I didn’t want any of us to be victims any more.   So, when I drove my sister home from a church meeting one night and saw him driving slowly by the house, something snapped and I whipped a u-turn in front of the house and took off after him.  Us in my little white Mustang and him in his beat up little pickup truck.  We flew down these country roads in the dark in some crazy pursuit.  The question was, what was I pursuing?  Was it him or was it something else?  I wondered what I would do if I caught him.  What would I say?  What would I do if got my hands on him?  But, I didn’t care.  I felt this great sense of elation!  I smiled—might have even laughed.  The hunter had become the hunted and I wanted him to feel fear.  I knew these old back roads pretty well, and I knew we were headed for gravel.  He went up this hill and to the left and sped down the white rock road with no signs of slowing.  I knew we were a few hundred yards from a tee in the road, and with the darkness and the gravel dust, I decided to slow down, hoping I would still be able to catch him.  We pulled up to the tee and I stopped.  I couldn't tell which direction he had gone, and I knew I hadn’t been that far behind him.  And then I saw him.  He had obviously not known about the tee in the road and had plowed straight through a fence out into the field.  I looked and saw his car about a hundred yards ahead with the driver’s door open and smoke coming up from the engine.  It took a minute to spot him.  He had run about a hundred yards past the car and was crouched beside a tree watching me.  It was a really powerful moment for me.  Here was this man that I had grown to fear and despise.  This coward of a man who, for some reason I don’t understand, preyed on those less powerful than him.  There he was crouched down like a cornered animal.  I remember thinking how pathetic he looked.  How weak and gutless and powerless and pathetic he was.  I actually felt sorry for him.  My heart was softened.  Not in a way that I would ever let him back in my life, but in a way that would allow me to let go.  My sister and I just sat there for a few moments, watching the lights glare back off of his glasses, like a possum's eyes at night.  She said something about how that was just sad.  I agreed.  I flashed my brights at him and honked my horn a couple of times, and then turned around and drove away.  It wasn’t worth it.  He wasn't worth it.  What was I going to do anyway?  What did I expect would make him different?  He at least knew that I would pursue and that I wasn’t going to sit idly by without fighting back, and that was enough for me at that moment, even if nothing else changed."

Missing Small Town Texas

Working on my book tonight and missing my little Texas hometown.  Missing train tracks running through the neighbor's yard and june bugs and populations signs with only three digits.  Missing longhorn cattle and loud bugs and fried everything.  I'm missing big green trees, hay bales in freshly cut fields and the sound of old guys sitting at the convenience store/diner booth playing dominoes and chatting about the local high school football game on Friday night.  "How's the team looking this year?"  I miss hearing those accents and phrases like "Well, I'm going to head on over to the Walmarts in a while...." or the inevitable daily chats about the weather.

One of my favorite song lyrics is from one of my favorite Southern boys, Don Williams.

"I can still hear the soft Southern winds in the live oak trees.
And those Williams boys, they still mean a lot to me--Hank and Tennessee
I guess we're all going to be what we're going to be
But what'll you do with good ole' boys like me"

I can just hear his smooth, mellow voice as I type those words.  Love this song so much.  It's about getting out and moving on, but also how you never do leave completely.  The places of your childhood--the smells and sounds and the feel of the air--they never leave.  And even if you don't want to necessarily move back, there's something about it that you can't shake from your soul.  And even if things happened that weren't good, that made those times less than happy on occasion, there is a flaxen thread that connects you always.  There is a longing to return, but not to the way it was.  The longing, I find, is to return to the childhood you wished it would have been.

Sorting Out My Story....

Do you remember that scene in the movie “Searching for Bobby Fischer” in which he is staring at the chess board trying to decide his next move, and he remembers his coach saying something about how he needs to see the ending and how he will get there before he makes his next move?  That’s how I feel about this book.  I keep writing down these bits and pieces of my story because I feel so compelled to write them.  But I can’t figure out why it needs to be written down.  I feel like I’m staring at a chess board and all the pieces are there, although perhaps scattered a little across the board and not perfectly lined up.  It isn’t random, because I put them there.  I just can’t figure out why I put them there and where they are supposed to wind up so that there is some kind of successful end result.  Sometimes I feel like the king and the goal is to protect myself and make sure I win.  But mostly I feel like little Bobby Fischer staring down at my life knowing that just a handful of correct moves will bring victory.  If only I could figure it out.  I love that scene in the movie.  I love the camera as it’s focused on his face trying to make sense of the pieces.  I love as it shifts from the pieces being in focus to his face as it clicks in his mind, and you see hope and adrenaline as he realizes how to win.  He lifts his head, his mind clear with the answer, solidifies his plan, and finishes the game.  Victory.  I’m hoping that moment of clarity will come.  And more importantly, I’m hoping when it does come, I will have the courage to finish.