Happy September. Happy fall. Happy routine. Good-bye chaos. Good-bye over-whelming freedom. Mid-June I decided to dedicate this summer to making up for family time lost last summer. We grilled out and sat on the deck to eat until late evening; bedtime be damned as we made s’mores at 9 or 10 p.m. We went to Iowa, to Maine, to Missouri, to Arkansas. We drove and hiked up mountains. We went to the beach. We dropped a quilt under a tree for picnics many a day. On every adventure, big or small, I had writing ideas flitting through my head, but every time I felt an urge to write, I submerged it, trying to just quickly record an idea for a story to be written later. By the end of August I realized that not writing was like chopping off a limb.
But in June it seemed logical. Figure out what exactly I wanted to do with the writing. Take a break and pick it up when the boys were back in school. When routine returned. It’s here and I’m back: sitting in Panera (yes, the same one that I had to crawl out from underneath a locked bathroom stall door a couple years ago), glasses off, curls on, and computer plugged in. It feels good to be back. Like a starfish with a missing leg, I’m confident that re-growth will start soon.