Happy Saturday! Ken's home, the party is over, and we have a weekend ahead of us with nothing scheduled - ahhhh! And Jamie is even feeling OK this morning after being up late running around with his friends.
I just finished a remarkable book this week for my library's book discussion (which, by the way, was the highlight of my week!). I'm probably the last person on earth who hadn't read it yet: Memoirs of a Geisha by Arthur Golden. Despite all the amazing reviews and recommendations I'd heard, I just didn't think it sounded interesting. Boy, was I wrong!
Golden is a very talented writer, and the book pulled me in from the very first pages and had me rooting for its main character, a young Japanese girl. It's one of those books that completely transports you to a different time and place. Besides the in-depth characters, fascinating plot and setting, and thought-provoking issues, the book is also beautifully written. I tabbed a bunch of favorite quotes. Here's one where the main character is musing about the changes in her life over which she had no control
...and, of course, I couldn't stop thinking of the other life I'd once led. Grief is a most peculiar thing; we're so helpless in the face of it. It's like a window that will simply open of its own accord. The room grows cold, and we can do nothing but shiver. But it opens a little less each time, and a little less; and one day we wonder what has become of it. - Memoirs of a Geisha by Arthur Golden
Besides being beautiful prose, this quote really hit me. I feel much the same way about my own grief over the life I once led before CFS. In the early days of my illness, that grief was overwhelming, but over the years it has faded. I sometimes still feel a pang of regret that I can't exercise or have a beer with my husband or do all the things I want to do, but the hard, painful grief has lessened its grip over the years, as I've become more accustomed to my new life. It is what it is. This is my life now.
What do you think? Has it been the same for you? Or are you still shivering in the cold?