56

A strange thing happened at the library, one month ago yesterday. I made note of the incident and tossed the written account into the tomorrow trunk; however, I continued to ponder about it often. 

On Monday afternoon of this week, a line of storms passed through central Mississippi, knocking out power and thwarting all my plans for a Presidents’ Day housecleaning. I decided that it was time to sit in front of my laptop (my only source of light) and draft a new post ~ after a ten-month hiatus ~ which I am finishing today.

On January 19^th, I answered a call from a lady who wanted to know about a fine notice that her sister had received in the mail.  She gave me the patron’s card number and name. I told the caller that her sister had checked out three movies which had been turned in late on November 16^th. I explained that she received the notice because the fine was sixty days past due.

She then told me that her sister died on December 28^th. Despite a quick catch in my throat, I offered my condolences and an assurance that the branch manager would waive the fine ~ to completely disregard the notice. She said that her sister's death was sudden and unexpected, and that her sister was only 56-years-old.

I hung up the phone and sat expressionless in my desk chair. I had turned 56-years-old on December 28^th.  Even more unsettling, I realized that the 56-year-old patron checked out movies in November and checked out of this world in December ~ on my 56^th birthday! Such a strange coincidence, I thought. I could not shake the phone conversation for the remainder of the afternoon. As I drove home, I glanced at three audio books stacked on the front seat of my car. What if those three audio books were the last items I ever checked out at the library? What if someone called on my behalf ~ turned them in on my behalf? I kept thinking about my date of birth and her date of death…and one number ~ 56.

I never do the whole ‘New Year’s resolution’ thing. It just doesn’t work for me…never has. However, as I pulled into the driveway, I considered that maybe the time had come to pay more attention to the new year and to that strange phone conversation playing over and over inside my head.  56 – dead, sudden and unexpected – on my birthday. My dad will be 90-years-old in September, and my mom will be 84 in October. Clearly, I don't think that much about dying.

I do think of living, of doing, of going, of being. I just love the process of life. This morning, the birds are singing, and the high today is a sunny southern 77 degrees. The storms that passed through on Monday have been replaced with mild temperatures and blue skies. That’s life to me. Storms on Monday; blue skies on Saturday!

This past year, I read or listened to novels and novel series written by author Nora Roberts ~ well, at least every available book in our 20-system library. It took me nine months, like delivering a child ~ bringing new life into my world. I met the Montgomery brothers and the MacKades, and I learned so much about Ireland from the Gallaghers of Ardmore that I could almost touch St. Declan’s Cross. I Googled my little walking man, followed the arrows all through the town of Ardmore, and spent an evening taking in the sights. Thanks to Ms. Roberts, my own life has been enriched by so many fictional families and the real places those families have lived life. With her new series, I just left Greece and I am headed to Italy…as soon as the next book in the series is published this year!

My newest author of choice, Lisa Kleypas, introduced me to the magical world of San Juan Island, Washington, in addition to the high society of the Travis brothers of Houston, Texas. I have never known life in a 18-story penthouse or even seen a Maybach.  During the Christmas holidays, my son and I took a cross-country road trip to Colorado. We traveled through Tulsa, Oklahoma around 1:00 a.m. There was absolutely no traffic on the Muskogee Turnpike; however, I saw dimly-lit rooms on the top floors of the tallest city buildings. Matt concentrated on driving, and I wondered about the lives of the people who resided within those walls. Were they happy? Lonely? Married? Single? Busy or bored? Impulsively, at 1:00 in the morning, I wanted to know what kind of car Gage Travis drove. I searched on my phone for a Maybach, which led me to a picture of the Maybach Exelero that sells for 8 million dollars, which led to one of the most unusual early morning conversations about cars and life with my son.  

I am currently reading a book by Janet Evanovich and Dorian Kelly, and one of the main characters is a successful craft beer brewer. My husband and I both choose to practice teetotalism ~ complete personal abstinence from alcoholic beverages; however, I have become so interested in this industry and the process of creating new beers. Over the years, I have been introduced to people who work in wine-producing vineyards, build the perfect Guinness beer, and drink Jameson Irish whiskey with a twist of lemon. I haven’t consumed a single ounce, but I love being interested in those who do, especially those who do it well.

At 56, I have seen Paris through the eyes of a blind girl. I've visited the fictional town of Mitford ten times and the real town of Blowing Rock once during a fall college break. I've eaten, prayed and loved my way across continents with author Elizabeth Gilbert. I've met a most beloved hotel owner, Pasquale Tursi, in the fictional town of Porto Vergogna ~ a sleepy little coastal village located next Italy's Cinque Terre. And, I recently re-visited a rabbit hole with a girl named Alice. Even my branch manager made this statement to me one day at work.  "If you ever disappear or if someone hasn't heard from you in a couple of days, I will check to see the last book you read to find out where you are." 

At 56, I have started my first Instagram account. As of this date, I haven’t posted a picture, but I follow people who post on a daily basis ~ people who live…really live! I connect everything in life. For me, it’s not about ego; it’s about living. I am such a National Geographic photography devotee, I follow every NatGeo photographer on Instagram ~ even though I have never posted one picture. I follow every underwater photographer I can find, and yet, I have no desire for a first-hand experience. I follow Alaskan photographers, mountain climbers, and world travelers, and I always prefer my quiet back patio with squirrels, birds, and books as my favored companions.

I am so curious about living, not dying. Everything about living is fascinating to me, which is why I am a reader, a student, a disciple. My life as a librarian is simple and commonplace, to be sure; however, I have met hundreds of people from across the centuries and across the sea, through the words, worlds, imaginations, and real lives of others. And yet, the distance from my house to the library is fifteen miles.

56 ~ a birthday for one woman; a burial for another. For one, a cake; for another, a coffin. For one woman, the final day of a cross-country road trip from Colorado; for another, a processional and a farewell trip to a cemetery.

A 56-year-old woman died on my 56^th birthday. She never paid the fines on her late movies. She never even got the notice in the mail. One woman never knew the significance of her 56^th year of life, and another woman learned how significant 56 can be.

The difference between living and dying, the difference between life and death...

Dianne ~ 56