I Followed The Yellow Brick Road

Why do I write? I keep asking myself that question. It’s not that I forget the answer, but each time I ask, I find even more reasons. So let’s start with this one: I don’t want to forget how good life has been, is now, and will be in the years ahead. I am certain none of us would have a problem naming that one person, or maybe even more, who has had a change in their mental status—little changes, or maybe big and life-changing ones. It’s at that moment that I begin to panic and hyperventilate. WHAT IF IT HAPPENS TO ME? I have always prided myself on my memory, resourcefulness, and ability to pay attention to detail.

Even now, as I look through old picture albums, I remind family and myself of all the fun things we have done through the years. Those beautiful memories stored in the back of our minds and hearts. We often hear people say how important it is to “live in the moment,” but what if your moment is trying to remember how wonderful life has treated us?

I have never been in therapy, but have heard so much about the importance of journaling. Friends have shared how therapeutic it can be. I guess one reason I hesitate to journal is that someday I will not be here, and do I really want my loved ones looking through pages of my deepest thoughts? Or even worse, will they end up with the piles of nameless photographs and bronze baby shoes that break my heart when I visit antique stores?

Lastly, some of my writings have been called funny, heartfelt, and even helpful. Isn’t it nice to see that others share some of the same fears or feelings as we do?