Solitude and a #2 pencil
My niños are going back to school. Now it will just be me and Suegra home alone all day. I’ll miss the kids, but I’m happy that I’ll have more time to write uninterrupted – (though with Suegra still here for another month, I shouldn’t celebrate too early.)
Yet, there is something about the smell of school supplies and the chill in the morning air that makes me not just ready for change, but desiring of it, maybe just as much so as the leaves on a maple tree. This year has been no different and so it came to be that yesterday I asked my husband to buy me a desk. I decided I needed a more solid place to call my own, something more substantial than the solitary papsan chair in the corner of the room.
I intend to write – not think about writing. Write more than blog. Write and repress the urge to check Twitter, the news, and my E-mail box, in an endless cycle. I will write because one of these days, tomorrow, or 70 years from now, will be my last, and I will wish I had written more.
And so tomorrow, while the niños are at their desks at school, I will be at mine.