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Dear World At Large:

I know it seems I’ve been gone a while, but really I haven’t. I’m still right here, covered up to my eyeballs with rambunctious boys. A tooth has been knocked out, an eye has been blacked and countless other moments of anxiety and tears that have gone unremarked anywhere outside of my own psyche…but through it all I’ve been here. Although sometimes, I admit, I have a harder time finding myself than others. So how can I blame you, dear reader, for having given me up as lost.

Days have gone on with little that felt worth the effort of recording. These end papers of summer feel a bit yellowed and singed from the constant, relentless onslaught of sun. But we do our best to squeeze some manner of pleasure from their waning light. A watermelon picnic — sticky, messy and altogether necessary in the life of a southern child. Late afternoon bike rides — where we pause often to collect interesting rocks and dappled leaves as well as the occasional bug or lizard . Dips in the pool where we see Jack strive for greater independence — daring his brothers to match his cannonballs and underwater backflips.

And for me…well, I’ve indulged in a bit of a creative lull. Finding, to my surprise, yarn cannot be forced into something it wasn’t meant to be. And words don’t necessarily line up and beg to be pinned to the page unless there’s some real meaning or intention behind.

Feeling a lot like the cicadas we’ve found in various stages of undress across our yard, I’m pushing my way out from an old skin. One that’s grown dry, brittle, and more than a little confining. I hear the cicadas only indulge in this activity once every 17 years or so, yet I find myself metamorphosing almost every year about this time. As the leaves begin to wither and the light takes on the ochre tinge of autumn, I’m awakening from a soporific* summer’s slumber. One where I can remain outwardly as busy as a bee, while inwardly hibernating — lulled by the constant drone of activity.

I hope it lasts a while, this most recent awakening. I’ve found I miss me when I’m gone.

*I strongly believe interesting, lovely words should be used with wild abandon. Please feel free to take this ten dollar treasure and claim it as your own with my blessing and well-wishes.

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3 Responses

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  1. lona Courington says

    I relate in so many ways. I just went through my art box and found that I am out of canvases. I have made the commitment to begin painting again. Really, it has been too hot to do anything that is not totally and completely necessary. Laundry, buying groceries, watering the plants….required. Although some might consider the plants optional. Painting, writing, feeding my soul…..on second thought, move these ahead of the plants….and the laundry.

  2. Bells says

    it’s an end of season thing. Yesterday was the first day i felt I could see the end of winter and felt like maybe I was waking up a little bit.

    And you’re right, yarn can’t be forced. I tried with the thing I made for you and failed spectacularly. The drawing board is back in action.

    Oh and I recall the first time I heard the word soporific. It was ten years ago and my lawyer boss told me the new job I’d got in another department was going to be soporific. I didn’t know what he meant but I didn’t think it was very nice. He was right, it was soporific but at least I wasn’t working for a meanie like him anymore.

  3. Kate says

    What a lyrical piece of thoughtful writing! I wholeheartedly agree that gorgeous words cry out to be used (why just the other day I wrote a note at school that “laggards” would not be assisted). ‘Serendipitous’ is another favourite 🙂
    Seize this time of transition and turn yourself in a direction you want to travel. We’ll be cheering you on.

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