A few things that I’m doing that you know nothing or very little about:
- I’m training for a 5K in September. The proceeds go to the cat shelter I volunteer at.
- I’ve received a new mentee in the mentoring program I work with. We’re going to the library this Sunday.
- I’m writing a memoir and I’ve started to let friends read most of the first half. They laugh out loud and tears well up in their eyes.
Every time the two of us speak, it’s mostly about you. I don’t blame you entirely because your hearing has gone bad and you haven’t gone to the doctor yet. While we were running errands in my car recently, I said to you, “Do you remember how we all used to yell at Grandma when her hearing aids weren’t working? That’s what this feels like.”
To which you shrugged your shoulders, possibly because you still can’t hear me.
“I don’t see why you’re putting us through this again,” I concluded mostly to myself.
You’re constantly adding to my “To Do List,” but you don’t ask for any of it. The thing is: I would move a mountain for you all while you say you don’t want to be a bother or interrupt my “busy” life.
I’m a do-er.
Which is why I’m running on the treadmill late at night, spending every Saturday night with homeless cats, and researching outings for a girl who just needs a break from her complicated life for a bit.
It’s also why I’m writing about our past: I have to do something with it.
Or else none of it mattered.