Wednesday, December 29, 1993
I glory in things of the sea, although I’ve never seen the ocean-- beautiful shells and fossilized creatures; the sound of waves crashing against hard earth; the luminescence of foam on the crest of waves; and cold salty spray in the air…I am so lonely for the sea, and then I think…How can I be lonesome for something I have never seen?
Maybe it is a primal feeling-- all life having originated from the ocean. It is a desire to go back to one’s roots.
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Vanity is a heavy burden. How wonderful and liberating to be rid of it. I wished I would have shed mine years sooner. Those very young, very beautiful women-- what a heavy yoke they must carry, their vanity.
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The other day I was very tired from not being able to sleep at night, and I thought desperately and crossly-- I wish I could go to bed and stay there until tomorrow because this is going to be such an awful day.
But then something unexpected happened-- the day rolled out before me, all the wrinkles smoothing out. And it turned out to be a wonderful day. Beth was delightful, John was calm, Anne was quiet. I reveled in my children, in my writing, even in the house.
At night I thought-- what a precious thing this day was, how tragic it would have been if I had not found it, appreciated it, lived it peacefully.
I shall never have this day again.
