A not so quiet place…

The thing is I’ve been thinking about this blog a lot lately. Sometimes I’ll think about ideas for a post when I’m tying my kids’ shoes in the morning before school. Sometimes I'll think about fleshing out those ideas when I’m cooking dinner in the evening or reading bedtime stories to three sleepy kids or walking our massive dog in the morning. The idea of sitting down and writing has been following me around for weeks. I see myself at my desk down in the office, a cup of tea next to me and words pouring forth.

“I will crush this.” I think.

And then the doubt creeps in and starts talking: Why does my voice matter again? What would I say anyway? What makes me worthy to say anything on any subject?

I shake my head to clear the thoughts. “I will write tonight”, I say to myself as put Band-Aids on scrapped knees and fold clothes and call out answers to questions about what we’re having for dinner. And then the evening comes around and bedtime is later than normal, and Daddy calls to say goodnight from far away sending everyone, including me, into an emotional whirlwind. By the time everyone is tucked in for the millionth time, and the dishes are done, and the three chattering voices finally fade as my kids drift off to sleep, I am utterly exhausted. I can’t write when I’m exhausted, right? I need a clean room, and a fresh cup of tea and silence. But you see, I don’t think that’s in the cards for me right now. I’m starting to realize that I’m going to have to grab small moments of peace and pull words out of myself there and then, dirty dishes be damned.

So, here I am, about to fall asleep on this laptop, but writing, nonetheless. Because the words must go out into something and imperfect though they are, they might as well go here.

GN,

Helen