I’d like to.
Write, that is.
But sometimes there are things more important than writing.
Like sons and grandsons who drive over 1000 miles to visit you for almost three weeks.
So instead of writing I’ve been blowing bubbles and taking walks and watering the garden and looking for mushrooms and reading “welcome home mouse” and singing the “tut tut” song and looking up videos of wheels on the bus and playing cozy pillow.
The writing will wait. And when the house is quiet and the toys have all been put away for another visit in another year, there will be pages to fill from a heart that is warmer and fuller and more open than it was before.
How about you? What are you savoring these days? And how does it appear in your writing?