Can’t Get Rid of Me Yet

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“Everyone must leave something behind when he dies, my grandfather said. A child or a book or a painting or a house or a wall built or a pair of shoes made. Or a garden planted. Something your hand touched some way so your soul has somewhere to go when you die, and when people look at that tree or that flower you planted, you’re there.

It doesn’t matter what you do, he said, so long as you change something from the way it was before you touched it into something that’s like you after you take your hands away. The difference between the man who just cuts lawns and a real gardener is in the touching, he said. The lawn-cutter might just as well not have been there at all; the gardener will be there a lifetime.”
― Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451

:)

It has been way too long since I have written a blog. I apologize to those of you that have been waiting. Let me explain. My life has been pretty topsy turvy this last year as most of you know. I moved yet again, retired from homeschooling, separated from my husband, and now live on my own with three kids in a city that is completely new to me; a city where I can hear the roar of the freeway, see Disneyland’s fireworks late at night, smell the sweet scent of Jacaranda trees wafting in the air, feel the ground rumble beneath my feet from the nearby train, and walk to get fresh homemade tortillas. But it is not the cities fault I haven’t posted anything new on my blog recently.

At first, I stopped posting because I was busy writing for other publications. Then, when I was done writing for other publications, I couldn’t decide what to write for my own blog. When I finally decided what to write about, I couldn’t decide how much to reveal so I didn’t write at all. As time passed, I no longer felt like writing especially after getting a rejection letter from The New York Times Modern Love Column. Although I know all the greatest have been rejected at one time or another, rejection is no fun. Then, the holiday’s hit hard and I got crazy busy. When the holidays were finally over and I began to get that inkling to write again, I was worried that maybe my readers had forgotten me or lost interest. In fact, as I let the months pass, I actually considered closing down my blog to start a new one. I even considered closing down my Yes Mom page of Facebook. I thought maybe it was time for a new chapter. Although I still haven’t completely rejected this last option, I finally find myself sitting down at my computer to write this blog.

And I have some readers to thank for that. At a women’s gathering last weekend in my backyard, hosted by Daisy UnChained, I had the privilege to meet one of my readers. She told me she looks forward to my Yes Mom Facebook posts every day. I had another reader who suffers from depression tell me that my posts inspire him and help him get through some really rough days. And my aunt told me she has printed every one of my blog posts and has gathered the pages into a book. Then, a friend of mine sent me a text reaching out to see if I was “okay” since I haven’t posted anything in a while. It seems I have not been forgotten.

So, it got me thinking. Actually, I have been thinking about it for some time now but I was dragging my ass. No more ass dragging. It is time to turn my blog into a book. I want a hard copy of The Yes Mom; something I can pass down to my children, my children’s children and my children’s children’s children. Like a photo album without pictures.

You see I am not one to hold on to keepsakes. I lose everything and I suck at organizing things, especially pictures for a photo album. Although I did attempt to put together some photo albums when the kids were young, the only thing I have to show for it is one album for Riley and one for Casey reflecting just one year of their life; and nothing, absolutely nothing for Maggie except pictures in an old shoe box under my bed.

So, in lieu of photo albums, I plan to leave a legacy of words instead. And, just in case the Battle of Armageddon brings human “rulership” to an end, or WWIII annihilates the earth as we know it or the Arctic melts and we end up back in Paleolithic times where the internet no longer exists, I want a real book. Something you can touch and smell and hold close to your heart. I want something you can put on a shelf or pack in a box with all of your other beloved items for safe keeping. And, if my book ends up sitting on some shelf collecting dust or becomes mildewed in a box in a far corner of my children’s garage or great grandchildren’s cave over the years, I am okay with that. Because I am sure that someday, some distant relative, friend of a friend, garage sale patron or WWIII survivor will find it, read it, and feel better as a result of it before burning it to keep warm. That is what I want. I want to keep people warm. I want to make them feel better.

Maybe that is why I am going back to school to get my Masters in Counseling; to make people feel better. I have applied to Cal State Fullerton and Cal State Long Beach. I won’t find out if I have been accepted for a few months. With only a 15% acceptance rate I am a bit apprehensive. I am proceeding forward, however, as if I have already been accepted. This plan of action worked when we moved here, to a cute little house in Santa Ana, only five minutes from the high school Maggie now attends. Not knowing whether Maggie would get into OCSA we moved here anyway. Six months later, she auditioned and got in. Not knowing if I will get in, I start two prerequisite classes in a week; Psychology and Human Development. If you build it, they will come. I am a firm believer in this.

I am pretty sure, however that it will not be my grades that get me in. I was an average student. But, the good news, I have had more than an average life. If I were the admissions officer I would accept me. The woman at the admissions office explained that for someone like me, someone that has been out of school for 25 years, (a polite way of saying older than the average student) it is all about my story. I was happy to hear this because boy, do I have a story. Combine my story, all my experiences, my compassion and insight and intuitive understanding I have gained throughout my life with the skills and tools I will learn in a Masters Program and the world is going to get one kick ass professional licensed counselor.

So here I go again, a new adventure awaits me. Oh…and there is an added bonus, I plan to carpool with my son Riley. Riley has recently been accepted to Cal State Fullerton. He just can’t get rid of me. But I don’t think he wants to. And, I don’t think I want to get rid of The Yes Mom just quite yet.

3 Responses to “Can’t Get Rid of Me Yet”

  1. clare Says:

    I just knew to walk over to your blog today!! I am thrilled beyond words that you are putting your wisdom and humor and raw chomping at life in a book. Haven’t I been begging you to do it for so long?
    And yes, if I wanted a counselor, I would sure want you!! And you will surprise your socks off at just what a brilliant student you will make. You are not 18 year old Deanne. You are a post graduate from the Harvard of Life and Insight. Make way; Coming through.
    Love your guts
    Clare

  2. Deanne Says:

    My dearest Clare, yes you have! You have always had so much belief in me. I cannot tell you how much that means to me. Miss you. I’m tempted to hop in the car and drive across the country to come see you.
    Love your guts as well my friend.
    Deanne

  3. clare Says:

    I seem to remember a promise and a plan for an East Coat tour. Just wouldn’t recommend it right now. Not even we can find where we live under all this snow!!! Whether it’s a road trip or a book tour – we’ll get together again.
    xx

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