I got some good news a couple of days ago. The Chicken Soup series is going to include an essay I wrote in their "Chicken Soup For the Empty Nester."
They asked for a brief bio-- no more than fifty words. Me in a nutshell-- the traditional paragraph written in third person where I tell about myself as if I weren't me.
Actually, I have five versions of me in my "brief bio" folder, because some publications allow more words, and each publication warrants a different style.
None of my bios would do, though. They all began: Ruth is a teacher, or, Ruth has been teaching for more than . . .
The book will be published in June 2008. I will be retired then. I need a new bio for the future. In the publishing world the future is always ahead of reality. The future is now.
I revised my bio to say: Ruth is a retired teacher . . .
No big deal. I liked the sound of it, but my subconscious had something to reveal.
~~~~~
I dreamt I had given birth to a baby girl. I was thrilled, but I wasn't taking care of her. I was going about my surreal dream business, leaving her in the care of others. No worries. I felt safe doing this, and thought about her often.
At some point, I asked that she be brought to me. Whoever had been taking care of her-- I don't even know-- carried her carelessly, nearly upside down, not protecting her head. She was tossed down in front of me looking nearly dead.
I began taking off layers of her clothing that were making her sweat. (It figures I'd get a baby who has hot flashes, too.) She perked right up, and became alert. I noticed how beautiful she was.
~~~~~
I think too much, analyze too much, my husband tells me. Just live, he says. Don't try to find a reason for everything. So I've been ignoring the odd feelings lately, the betwixt and between, neither here nor there sense. The feeling of metamorphosis, of being squeezed in a cocoon, but it's too soon to emerge. Asking the proverbial adolescent question tweaked for midlife: Not who am I? But who will I be next?
I am a teacher. I've said that for 34 years. Next year I will say, I am a retired teacher. But that's not enough. Who else will I be? My dream . . . am I pregnant with a new me?
~~~~~
I took a walk today, the first day of fall. Summer to fall transitions were everywhere. It was beautiful. I took comfort.
Comments
Or you say, "I'm the greatest woman in the world!" They'll agree to that, surely.
A whole new Ruth, kind of. Exciting.
By the way, so sorry to hear you got the first bug of the school year. Usually, I managed to ward anything off until January or February. Hope you're all better now. :D
Also, I found you on facebook so check it out.
I understand the betwixt and between as well. It seems to be a permanent condition once our children leave home, doesn't it?
But, now you have a new baby... :-) What a funny dream.
V.
Don't get me wrong. I'm a wannabe. You'll hear my "Hooray," Voyager.
I can't find my Facebook anymore, Leslie. But I'll look for it. People mention it and I get notes that theysend, but where am I? Duh!
-rick
http://muse-needed.blogspot.com/
Rain~ The CS for the Coffee Lover's Soul will be on sale mid October. :>)
Rick~ You made me realize that it is even conceivable to have 34 years of retirement. wouldn't that be something?
B~ You make the freedom sound good. To be able to discard what doesn't fit, and keep trying new things.