So I'm reading this book...

So I’m reading this book about Carole King, Joni Mitchell, and Carly Simon, these great songwriters who wrote so many of the songs of my generation, and as I get near the end I am blown away to realize that they too are struggling with getting older and feeling past being relevant, and they're constantly re-inventing themselves, working for causes, mentoring people.
I think about my own call and intention to “do it again,” “Pick up that guitar and sing,” and the more I think about it the more mad it seems, which makes doing it seem necessary – like the less rational it seems, the more important it is that I do it.
Meanwhile, here I sit, Mary with the mononucleosis, and a cold, and not enough energy to drive to town for groceries, which would just use gas, anyway, so no big loss – I stocked up last week and we’re fine – and I wonder if I’ll ever actually be able to get up and do it again, sing, write songs, live a life with a broader meaning than the mom, wife, grandma, friend, etc., that I am – those things are enough for most people, but here I am, still trying to write, to make sense, to make people laugh, and think.
Could be worse.