With only a small amount of effort, sometimes I can feel sorry for myself: This, that didn’t work as I wanted. A stumble here, a fall there, a dog bite on a morning walk. Little things which are nothing really—minor glitches. Which I can magnify.
Then I read the marvelous A Certain Loneliness: A Memoir by Sandra Gail Lambert. I met Sandra Lambert, briefly, at a talk she gave. We talked a bit about Diana Athill, Somewhere Towards The End, the English writer, who died recently at age 101 still working. Both of us impressed.
I told Sandra Lambert that I loved the title of her book, and would get it from our library (managing not to say that I no longer buy books until I’ve read them and know I want them). I will buy A Certain Loneliness, and not totally for the beautiful language of feeling. But so I can reread a closing chapter about camping and kayaking, alone, in the Okefenokee. And especially for the Everglades’ Flamingo Campground chapter. It’s way, way early on a New Year morning. And this handicapped-from-childhood lone woman makes her determined way to greet the rise of the sun, alone in a kayak, out in the bay. Just Sandra Lamert and her magnificent courage to get herself there and back to her wheelchair and campsite.
Talk about taking what you have and making the most of it. I am privileged to share.