Search

Amy F. Quincy Author/Freelance Writer

Open Search
Tag

change

We Interrupt Our Regularly Scheduled Reading …

q1We knew this day would come. Okay, maybe you all didn’t know, but I knew. I can’t very well write this blog forever, can I? The answer is no, I can’t. All good things must come to an end. Well, let me rephrase that because I’ve never been good with the finality of endings. It’s more a hiatus of sorts. Yes, I’m taking a sabbatical.

My friend Mary, along with other writers, have commended me on the regularity of this blog. Every Sunday. For just over three years. I know some friends and family who’ll miss it dearly, for it’s how they’ve grown accustomed to keeping up with my life. Even my mom still learns new things about me, and she lives right next door.

But maybe Mary’s the one who has it figured out. Writing when the mood strikes, instead of on a production schedule. Maybe that’s the secret to longevity. She’s more productive and she’s been at this for a lot longer than me. She also types faster than nine words a minute using both hands. (Sorry, I couldn’t resist playing the handicapped card one more time. I’m sure it won’t be the last.)

It’s like before I became disabled. It was everything I could do to struggle awake for work when the alarm went off at 7:30. Now, with nowhere to be, my eyes pop open, sans alarm, at 5:30 a.m. So maybe, now that I don’t have to publish a post, it will be easier.

Not that it was so difficult. It wasn’t. And I did get better. Better at not flying into a panic the last half of the week if I didn’t have an idea yet. It was a good practice for me. I learned to trust the process.

But, oh the energy. Knowing you have three to five hundred words to put out there takes up a lot of mental space in your brain. And there are lots of things I want that space for. For starters, I need to get my book published. Apparently, book deals aren’t like bananas at sporting events — they don’t just hand them out when you’re done.

And I have so many interests! So many passions. Writing will always be one of them — a main one. But there’s also my health — and the fitness routine I need to get back to. The weather’s getting nice, I want to swim in the pool with Mom and maybe coax Frankie in (he hates water). And travel. I still want to travel. Maybe live in a foreign country? If I ever figure out how to do that, you know I’ll have to blog about it. Or write another book. Handicapped traveler in a foreign land? That adventure seems ripe with opportunity for comedic mishap.

Yes, most certainly there’ll be other posts. Make sure you’re signed up for my blog so you’ll receive an email when I’ve posted something new since this Sunday-like-clockwork thing can’t be counted on anymore.

If there’s anything I’ve learned from disability, it’s that you only have one life and it’s short. Make time for all your passions. Make time for more. And do it now.q2

 

10

The Inevitable

photo_2I thought that once I became disabled, my exciting times were behind me. I no longer entertained thoughts of touring the countryside by RV, living abroad or learning a foreign language. That’s nonsense. I may stay put in Jacksonville, but look at the new life I’m about to begin! As I move this weekend, I’m reminded that everything changes, even for me. I may even start slurring some Spanish.

“Change is inevitable – except from a vending machine.” ~Robert C. Gallagher

2

Change

A few days ago, I found out that one of Frankie’s favorite humans had suffered a stroke. Probably, when I was writing in a recent post the cautionary words that tragedy could strike at any moment.

Jim and his wife, Virginia, would walk First Street nearly every morning. Frankie and I would always see them. Jim would carry two dog biscuits in his pocket just for Frankie. I’ve been around when other dogs and their owners stopped and Jim came up empty-handed. It’s not like he had a pocketful of dog treats to befriend all the neighborhood dogs. Just two. Just Frankie.

It crosses your mind when you haven’t seen some people in a while. I wondered, but had no way of knowing. Until another “regular” we pass told me Jim was in the hospital. They’re just neighbors I met with Frankie. And yet, they’d become a part of our routine I looked forward to. I don’t like change. Nobody does.

Jim carried an old golf club turned makeshift walking stick. Frankie would hear the tell-tale clacks long before I would. By the time they approached, Frankie was jumping for joy. He even let out a couple of excited yips once in awhile. Then he’d receive his treats. But just two. Jim and Virginia don’t have a dog. Did they buy dog biscuits at the store just for Frankie?

Virginia and James Keys

I always intended to write about them, though not in this way. I learned some time ago that they were local celebrities. Virginia (Atter Keys)  had been a radio and television icon in the ’50s through ’80s. I just knew she remembered Frankie’s name because of Frankie Valli. And then she would start singing.

I don’t know that we’ll see them out walking again, though I do plan to stop by their house. With Frankie. He’ll be excited even without the treats. I don’t know how bad a stroke it was. Maybe we can all sit in the driveway.

So, I’m sad. I miss seeing them out walking. I miss our exchange and Frankie’s enthusiasm. I miss the routine. Remember, things can change in an instant. Soak up the now.

6

Website Built with WordPress.com.

Up ↑