Interruptions

Stephen King and my friend Susan Albert Wittig say that a writer must write 2000 words per day. That's about 10 pages. Sometimes that's easy and sometimes it's not. Susan was interrupted with a power outage and cleanup after a storm when she was alone in her Texas hill country home. Stephen, I'm sure, finds his own interruptions ... not just the big one where he was nailed by a car on his daily walk. I, for one, am interrupted by my need to write about something significant every time I open a blog post. How silly is that? So perhaps I should talk about interruptions.

So here I am, telling the page about my days ... Monday I trusted all my most precious old photos to the post office to mail to my brother George in St. Louis. Some of his children are visiting starting today. I am so happy that is happening because those relationships were interrupted many years with conflict. Family itself can be an interruption, because as children become adults their lives are too full of other things to spend a lot of time with parents. And when family visits, routines are interrupted. So even love can be an interruption, but a happy one!

The saddest interruption in my life just now is that I have received notice that my sister Louise has Alzheimer's Disease, and has been institutionalized for two years. Louise left home when I was a toddler and has always lived in Washington state. To explain why I didn't know she was ill is somewhat embarrassing. You see, I don't like her. There's no rule someplace that says you have to like your sister. I adored the other one, Imogene, despite our differences and disagreements. Louise was so controlling and manipulative that my anger could never be appeased. Every time we have been together has been a struggle. After our last visit, taken at the behest of Marvin, I swore I would never see her again. I instead chose to think of her walking her dog every day ... and manipulating her family. Louise was 85 this year. And I sent her a birthday card. Maybe that's why her daughter Diane asked her dad, Tom, if we had been informed of Louise's demise. Diane wrote a note to me and my brother (it's a good thing we haven't moved). But Tom doesn't answer the phone. Shall I interrupt his peace with a letter? I always adored him. So I guess I will.

Interruptions should be for good reasons, but aren't always. I hope this interruption in the lives of my family who read this will offer some thought of relationships, and how they are interrupted. Instead of resenting, we should take advantage of the moment. Therein lies the rub for me with Louise. I never forgave her interruptions. And it's too late to take it back. So here I write my regret. And ask forgiveness.