This beautiful moment is brought to you by many things: getting over myself, the encouragement of family and the Chelmsford Writers Group, and Lulu.com.
I finally got brave enough to self publish a short story: Skin, Skin. It’s a short horror story that started as a writers group Halloween project. The group really enjoyed it and had some very constructive criticism, which I followed and made the story flow better. I hope this experience gets me more used to people actually reading my work and rating it, especially for the world to see.
The only complaint is that my cover would not upload, so it is not near as catchy of a marketing image as I wanted. If anyone knows how to use one of Lulu’s own pictures from its gallery, please tell me how to upload it successfully!
I have visited the doctor for joint pain before, because a therapist mostly sits all day long. Sits and listens to people. Sits in supervision meetings. Sits in front of a computer, typing reports.
But I noticed a rather enlightening trend. My right knee began groaning with pain when it rains. Granted, I injured this knee about three summers ago when toppling over the handlebars of my bicycle, so it gives me trouble sometimes. But joint pain when it’s pouring rain is different.
At work, I stopped by one of the large pipes that runs through our office in the mill building. I squatted, then stood up and stretched my legs, all the while my face grimacing. I looked up at my co-worker, Alicia.
“Isn’t it a sign of getting old if your knees hurt when it rains?” I asked.
“No, that just means you have mileage,” she responded.
Mileage. I have mileage. I considered this and even repeated it out loud. I like that. Having mileage sounds like one is experienced with life, not withering from it. Having mileage sounds like a prized car that well cared for.
So, I have mileage. Who else has mileage?
This beautiful moment was brought to me by democracy…..
I made my voice heard.
I thought about the right to repair.
I talked about medical marijuana.
I addressed assisted suicide.
I picked the unpopular kid.
I wrote in a name instead of checking one.
I questioned the way things are.
I questioned everything I know.
I said I am independent.
I thought for myself.
I exercised an American right.
I remembered my gender have not always had this right.
I realized we still have a long way to go.
I may have made a mistake, but
I hope I changed my life for the better, or maybe
I just changed the world.
I V O T E D.