The Choice is Mine

Jim's bread.

A few years before he died Jim tried some cooking - bread making and soup concoctions. He was good at both. Delicious soups and worthy bread.

I found these pictures the other day. Nice memory. I can almost smell that bread and I certainly remember how we enjoyed the taste of it.

Finding these pictures reminded me of Thorton Wilder's play Our Town - when in the third act the stage manager advises Emily, recently deceased, who wants to come back to life "just for a day", to chose an insignificant day to re-live.

I felt that advice like a hot blade because I have been working on a story about Jim and me and our young life together. In doing that I am reliving even the slightest moment I can remember and sifting for those that will make a story.

I am not saying that its easy to do that work. Its difficult to make choices. And, more, its difficult to wade through things you wish you could re-do. Having said that, I am not sorry to be tackling the memories. But, I have decided to delay the first telling of the story. Its not ready and I am not ready. I have not settled on the why of telling it outside our family.

Originally I planned to tell it in June for Jim's birthday.

Well, that's not happening. Its delayed until August and it might possibly be delayed until February for Valentine's. However I am a stubborn devil and when I want to work out a story I stick to it -  maybe beyond reason.

There will be other stories to tell on the scheduled dates if I keep delaying my "love story." Actually my storytelling dance card is doing okay - - local and out of town - - which feels good. Its my house work that is taking a beating.

The good news is that I can do whatever it is whenever I want to!

Isn't that a nice thing to grasp?

The choice is mine.

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