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recluse

such a homely word

I know I know. I need to make the effort.  I could shut myself off easily and never be heard from again.  Really.  But then again I’d miss connection.  I would miss the simple and greatest pleasure of being with another person, how terribly sad is that?

Recently I have been making an effort.  Reconnecting, making new friends; I can do this.  More importantly, I want to.  Every once in awhile a dear friend of mine who really knows me will call me up and say, “Deidre, it time’s to step out of the closet.” And I usually reply, “Have I been there that long?” It’s what I do.  Like biting my nails. It’s a ritual or habit I created long ago only the point no longer exists.  I wish I had an explanation, but there is none. Pathetic.

Somewhere between reclusivity and bacchanalia there is a lovely balance of work and play. In order to find it I need to step out of my closet.  My intention to say “yes” more often than I say “no.”  Just for a little while; see where it leads. If nothing else there’s got to be a better view.

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