2023. A new year and New accountabilities

About a week ago a close friend told me that if I just considered coupling, I could reach my financial goals a little faster. Last night, I had a dream that I married my neighbor, and together, we bought a house in the Bay Area. Finally! I had my house, and my beautiful yard with hummingbirds and butterflies and delightful crows and scrub jays, and little water features and a zillion succulents and herbs, but I also had a snoring companion who I would have to feign interest in and give even more of life energy to even if I found them delightful!

Alas, in my dream, I had the material things I wanted, but I was unhappy. To be honest, I just don’t think I was made for marriage or even for another person or full-time companionship. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve loved some people–people who I deeply wanted to spend my life with–but these people also exhausted me.

Last year, almost to the week, my cat passed away. He was my constant, and I loved him so much. I miss him, but I also love the freedom from responsibility, the complete and utter solo personhood I have, the choice to experience.

Honestly, while we’re still in the midst of a pandemic, post-pandemic, late-stage capitalistic, end of times scenario, I don’t think I even have the energy to keep a house plant alive.

So this year, I’m not going to worry about other people or living things that need or want my attention. This year, I’m just going to write. I have a character in mind, a person who never quite fit in, a person who cherished companionship but also found a lot of irritation in it, a person living through a pandemic–but not OUR pandemic, a different pandemic, a few onion layers away.

This year, I’m going to revisit a story that just won’t stop poking at me, and with the help of some good friends, I’m going to stay accountable.

Every Sunday, for the next year, I’ll be publishing a few sentences from my story–or a sentence, if I only write a sentence.

So here goes– a paragraph:

We can all laugh at it now, because it is a little funny in retropsect. I have those memories, too, though the ending was different for me. We can share that though—the brief moment before time shifted, before you went off on your path, a universe where people all just pretended their pandemic away so they didn’t have to deal with it anymore. And they didn’t. Deal. With. It.

Most people can tolerate anything, really anything if they can make it into a kind of a dream or a story, I guess.

Sarah R. Rodlund

Sarah is a writer and traveler.

One comment

  • Hello, Sarah,

    I love the blog post to introduce your paragraph. I concur. Then, I loved the immediacy of your blog post and I wondered if that story could dream into reality the new purpose for marrying: to get a house. (Last I was pressured to marry the reasons were that it was abnormal not to be or that I would die alone; not the biggest carrot or karat).

    I really like the immediate twist of matters ending differently for you and the intimacy with which you write from which I sense a deep friendship and risk. More!

    I hope I am able to post. I tried earlier but the twists and turns of needing a password lost it.

    – Gina

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