April 28, 2021
It's a Wednesday.
Writing provides a satisfying and gratifying way for me to take a deep explorative dive into the depths of all of me. I generally start out with a glimmer of an idea and soon find myself curiously wandering in and out of the nooks and crannies that make up my being. I like looking around, seeing what's there. I have become familiar with some of the paths I find myself on, but there is always more to discover.
Lately a path I have been distressfully visiting way too often is dark and cold and colorless with boulders of angry criticism blocking the light. I don't like it there. But it's there, and stubbornly refuses to be ignored.
These days I don't often have the luxury of the alone time I need to totally absorb myself in my writing.
For instance, right now, this very moment, I am distracted with the anticipation that my trance will be interrupted. Thoughts of the morning tasks that caregiving requires are begging for attention.
I expect that I soon will be called upon to help selecting the appropriate clothing for the day.
I hear my name being called from the bedroom. "Lynda". I think to myself, it's a sweet sound, really.
He comes out of the bedroom, walks over to me, and bends down for a kiss.
And he brings with him the light.
Hari OM
ReplyDelete...I hear ya... I think back to the intensity of last year and understand something of why I am all adrift even five months after. Big huggies to you and hubby! YAM xx
(ps will be getting something up on the MAL at Ravelry tomorrow...)
A caregiver's work is never done.
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