Somewhere in France


While going through some old books earlier, I came across my Great-Grandmother Elsie’s college yearbook from 1918. It was just the book I was searching for, because I remembered how endearing I found the following line to be: “She is rather inclined to be silent, but it is at these times that her mind is traveling with an ambulance driver ‘somewhere in France.'”

These days, I often think my mind is “somewhere in France.” Maybe even with an ambulance driver. Maybe it’s hereditary. Who knows?

Sometimes I keep to myself. Not forever, but I do. For me, it is always important to balance a life full of being a mouth with being an ear. Both a speaker and a listener. Sometimes I go out, too.

Words are very powerful. Balancing speaking and listening, I believe, is a step in the right direction for discovering the appropriate words. I also think it’s something to work on often. Unless being an ass is the goal!

Over the past couple days, I have twice been reminded how easy it is to speak before thinking and I am so glad I stopped myself before jumping off the cliff both times. I suppose it is wisdom that reminds me to take the high road during times of intense pressure and stress, stops me from blowing up, and leads me to take a deep breath instead. I can be rather impulsive at times, so it can be tough. But, it’s definitely worth the effort.

There is beauty in being quiet and I am glad to know that it is in my blood. There is a loudness in me, too. But, I think finding balance is key.

Anyway, I have somewhere I need to be.

Au revoir. Z



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