When I retired from education, I had a penchant for butterflies. I told myself, family, friends, and acquaintances that butterflies reflected growth and change. I wasn’t retiring, I said. I was transforming. I was convinced at the time that I was emerging into my true self. It’s been a journey. My life has been changing. My work has been changing. And, the good news is that I am moving forward in my creative life. Writing is no longer a part-time-squeeze-in-a-paragraph-when-I-can sort of existence. My new life is where I need to write, and I need to produce every day. It’s difficult, some days, but also incredibly easy and fulfilling.
The difficult part is pulling the words from my brain and heart. It’s difficult to write the writing that needs to be a priority. It’s a joy and a burden. Mostly, it’s joy. And in other parts of my life, I confess, of late, that I don’t feel like the butterfly emerging from the cocoon. Rather, I feel like the caterpillar mush inside the cocoon, getting ready to transform. It’s all positive but new. I can feel my wings growing, and I can begin to see the light through the cracks where I chewed through the cocoon. I will emerge slowly, hopefully triumphantly, as I shed my old skin and take on new roles. I am ready to stretch my wings and fly.
Dear Readers, I wish you all good flying days ahead. Happy 2022!