I miss writing. So I am simply going to jump back into it. No waiting for a major event, no watching for a chance to retell a story. Just writing. Just because. Why not.
Lately I have been conducting a massive clean up, out, and reorg of my house. Nothing is exempt. I redid kid2’s room, donated two car-loads of stuff, stockpiled other things to wheel and deal on Kijiji. It feels cathartic. It feels fresh and new. When we were kids we would rearrange the furniture in our rooms about once a year. We didn’t have much by way of material possessions, and the rejuvenating results of moving our beds and dressers around always put old things in a new light. I guess that’s a bit of a theme for me this year.
In going through boxes and shelves I found a tiny treasure. Every year a dear friend and I go to a women’s art festival. The crafts and wares on display are diverse and lovely. In 2007 I bought a box of journal prompts. Slips of paper with thought-provoking one liners on them, to get the wheels turning. I have taped a few in journals I have given as gifts, as a boost and because I always give people things I love myself.
I decided to use one tonight. I was going to sit down, pick a prompt and use that as my impetus to write again. The prompt I picked? “The worst thing that ever happened to you…” Really universe? You present me with that, from a box of 200 options. After having taken a break from writing, and now being in a sunshine-y happy place? I am taking a pass on that one. It is reassuring that none of the events that pop to mind when asked that question strike me as worth writing about. A combination of time and a devotion to onwards means I leave bad things behind and always have much to look forward to. Like getting back to writing. Starting to run again. Not waiting, just doing.