Letting Go, Again
Funny, the things you learn from a flood.
When last I wrote, dear reader, I was bemoaning my the flooding of my sweet, dear getaway in the Hill Country. Since then, I’ve been back numerous times to pack up the artwork and valuables so that the contractor can start reconstructing what the water restoration crew had been deconstructing.
Among the soggy boxes in my studio was one filled with copies of journals and magazines in which I had published two decades of scholarship and criticism. That was my former life, as a research academic, in ruins.
My first impulse was to start spreading out the periodicals along the tile floor to dry, but I immediately realized it was a lost cause. And the cost of professionally freeze-drying them was prohibitive. (Only the box of my father’s letters and scrapbooks got that royal treatment.)
So I sat with the soggy box for a while and rooted through it. Then I let go of that former life all over again.
What was I going to do with these documents anyway? Nothing. I hadn’t looked at them since I tucked them away for “safekeeping.” Whatever significance that body of work might have, it happens out in the world in databases helping and inspiring other academics to further the research.
I found myself letting go, over all again, of that two-decade career. Three years ago I chose a do-over, and I’ve never had a single regret. So, onto finishing up my new audiobook. It’s titled (aptly) Do-Over! How Women Are Reinventing Their Lives.