Friday, June 28, 2024

The life lived

 






In a favorite book of mine, The Lord of the Rings, as Frodo gears up reluctantly to leave The Shire, he is supposed to keep it a secret. But he gives the game away, at least to his closest friends, because he's always wandering about moonily saying things like "Shall I ever see this tree again?" or "Is this the last time I gaze upon this vista?"

I might be getting a bit like this.

Having pegged out our retirement at one or two years now, I find I can tolerate unpleasant developments at my library with a bit more... distance. But I have started to look upon things with increasing wistfulness as well.

"Alas." I murmur to myself. "Will I ever explain to a library patron again about our carpool parking spots and commiserate with them about how unfair it is to them as a single person who is lonely and never does anything with anyone else?"

I mean, I might, and I might not. It happens about once a year. So conceivably that last one was my last time.


This week I am putting up a show of my fictional photographs of the library at my library. I have done a fair few art projects at my library, some formal, some completely rogue. This one is pretty formal. I mean, I have permission. It could be the last one.

"Lo." I mutter sadly to myself. "Will I ever hang up my art for the people of my library system again?"

Probably not.

Or how about this:

Will I ever have to try to answer the question "How come you don't do something with your talent?" again?

I guess I'm almost ready to let that one go.













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