this week, while in tooth ache hell, I have been watching a load of films, which all had the theme of the elderly or ill road tripping to find the lost loves of their youth, usually against the better judgement of their close family, aided by the youngest, for “one last chance” at love and adventure.
what a delight they all were, exploring the nature of hope and adventure, corralling others to join in, the right to make personal choices and mistakes, bonding and belly laughs, adversity and opportunities, love in unexpected places, and with it pain.
The seemingly random theme had been triggered by an old friend recalling one such youthful trip of ours, where I too had been in search of a particular man, in a split screen camper van and a whole bunch of friends setting off into the night with vague clues and purpose.
Remembering from the here and now it was unusual, special and a bit wild, we friends christened ourselves with heroic nick names, took mind expanding drugs, headed out on our S/heroes quests, chasing the possibilities of life , decorated (fashion), sound tracked, ( bands and musicians) and passionately embraced (love affairs, betrayals, one night stands).
I burned some bridges and built some, I feel quite proud of myself, my memories, my own experiences, I can’t now walk more than a few steps; had a wheelchair delivered yesterday, how ever the richness of the minds eye still makes life a blissful, beautiful, magical quest. Laughing at all the things that happened, lots of crying over split milk, and as my isolation grows the reality of expressing my own personal freedom reveals its true colours, no not the shame of chasing a man I met tripping at a festival, but the ancient themes, the archetypal call to adventure,
and just like the films, of last chance loves, and disabled adventurers there is always one more quest, one more Last Go, on and on, so watch “Grandmas Wedding”, and be glad that life doesn’t give up and all we really have to do is attend. Whatever we think at the time.
Your writing is mentally mesmerizing. I love your words and your genuine style.
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well that’s probably the most delightful comment I have ever had about my writing, thank you very much, tell the chickens, especially Bessie who I feel a natural affinity with, that I shall take more than a passing interest in their ventures .
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Thank you, Julia. Bessie was very excited to learn your word “Sheroes.” And that is what she is for sure.
She once protected the others from a stray cat that was able to get a paw through a gap in their chicken run fencing. She still has the marks from what happened. Her comb stands up straight only in the front now.
When I look at her though, I don’t see the scar or the imperfection. I see only her bravery, and I have nothing but respect and appreciation for her.
I believe you are strong like Bessie that way. Keep writing. There are many people who need to hear your story.
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