I began my life by loving my parents, my sister, my grandfather, many cats and cows, and a piece of land.
I married a mysterious and intelligent man and became the mother of two mysterious and intelligent boys.
I read books and I played the violin.
I wrote five books and managed to publish three of them.
I made a few dear friends, and only one of them has died.
I never came close to starving.
Nonetheless, I joined the ranks of the melancholy.
I suppose you, too, have also joined those ranks.
I suspect we all have.
7 comments:
Happy Birthday! You have also gathered many loyal fans and quite a number of good, if not close, best friends. Have a wonderful day.
Love to you, too, Ruth. . . .
Happy Birthday, Dawn. I hope you have a wonderful celebration today.
Happy Birthday Dawn. I always, always, always enjoy reading what you write. I think I like it so much because you write honestly and bravely.
I'm glad that we can communicate over the inter-tubes.
I hope you have a wonderful birthday.
Happy Birthday, dear woman.
Without melancholy and aching sorrow how would we know true happiness??
Well preserved is NOT the goal!!!!
Dawn,
I think those of us born at this time of year may be the children of Melancholy. When October begins, Keats' Ode to Autumn appears in my thoughts and stays there, repeating, repeating, until October ends. Again, Happy Birthday.
Teresa
Keats's poem is one big reason for preferring the word "melancholy" to the clinical gloom of "depression."
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