My daughter went back to college last weekend to start her senior year. We drove down, got the stuff from the storage locker and moved her in. I am grateful that everything went well, and move in went better than expected. I am grateful for her nice on-campus apartment that is in pretty good shape, her great roommates and her university. May the fun and studying begin.
My word for the week is renewal/renew. Here’s how it was found in the books that I’m reading:
- ‘Ken and Annette were extremely lucky to remain totally in love from the moment they met. Ken said it was the easiest thing he ever had to do.’ When I read those lines, at first I thought they contradicted a lot of what I’d learnt about love being something that requires constant work and renewal. Now that I realize that what these answers point to is that, although you have to work at a relationship, you shouldn’t have to work at convincing someone to love you. Natasha Lunn
- But there seemed to be something profoundly different about hitting the middle aged mark- a sense of accomplishment, an emotional reckoning, and a feeling of renewed possibility about the future. Caroline Kennedy
- The dropping of leaves by deciduous trees is called abscission. It occurs on the cusp between autumn and winter, as part of an arc of growth, maturity, and renewal. Katherine May
- The beginning of the school year reinforced how it felt to be young and renewed– clear walls and clean erasers, year after year. Kristin van Ogtrop
- I’d become a distraction at the school, and my contract wasn’t being renewed. Mary Kay Andrews
What I’m going to think about RENEW/RENEWAL/RENEWED
- Renew in all its forms was not found in most of the books I read. Is this because it’s a hard word to use, or because we don’t think about things getting a new life?
- Why does September still feel like a beginning to me?
- As we age, should we think about ways to renew ourselves? Isn’t renewal natural?
Cosmetics Do No Good- Steve Kowit Cosmetics do no good: no shadow, rouge, mascara, lipstick— nothing helps. However artfully I comb my hair, embellishing my throat & wrists with jewels, it is no use—there is no semblance of the beautiful young girl I was & long for still. My loveliness is past. & no one could be more aware than I am that coquettishness at this age only renders me ridiculous. I know it. Nonetheless, I primp myself before the glass like an infatuated schoolgirl fussing over every detail, practicing whatever subtlety may please him. I cannot help myself. The God of Passion has his will of me & I am tossed about between humiliation & desire, rectitude & lust, disintegration & renewal, ruin & salvation. after Vidyapati writersalmanac.publicradio.org