A year ago I resolved to write two blogs a week for a year about my “virgin” experiences as a 64- (now 65)-year-old and this is the last of them.
Over the year, I often strayed from my original intention to write about two untried adventures each week – still haven’t climbed a 4,000-footer or sung karaoke in a club, for example – and some of the “firsts” I experienced I wish I hadn’t. Discovering the death of my dear friend, Cissy, for example. Or learning that my cat-loving niece had died of non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma at the age of 32, barely three months after being diagnosed.
But I also celebrated a new job, learned to rock-climb, got lost on the choppy water of Lake Umbagog, toasted 10 years of marriage to a man I adore and made the climb to an Appalachian Mountain Club hut for an overnight stay.
It has been a full year.
At times, I wondered if I were trying to re-create the twice-a-week column I used to write – my favorite part of my journalism career. Blogging does the same thing that writing those columns did. Not only was I recording part of my life, but creating it. Writing helps shape who I am. In organizing my thoughts and looking for ideas or themes, I encounter my own values and reinforce them. I inform myself. I grow.
So what now?
I haven’t decided whether to keep up with the twice-a-week schedule. Maybe I’ll only blog when I DO try something truly adventurous. Maybe I’ll do it just for the practice.
But I will keep writing – and doing.
There are still all those 4,000-footers out there.
And a whole lot of karaoke clubs.