Last night I had the opportunity to gather with a group of writers for the first time in a long time. I listened to colleagues read their work and read a story of my own. There was delicious food and a crockpot of hot toddies promising their own warm buzz. It seems like a dream now, but it was real-- the amazing Amanda McBroom sang to us, each of her songs its own story. Afterwards I drove home through the rain to my quiet house, sinking into stories true and imagined, pondering how good it feels as a reader or writer when we are drawn quickly into the deep middle. I slept a lot today, turning a new story over in my head, resisting the urge to talk about it. Write it, don't tell it to us, a favorite teacher used to say. It never ceases to amaze me that so much wreckage can be made sense of and turned into something new.
It's been a slow process these months since my mom has left my house for me to realize that I am free to come and go, stay out late, spend a day in bed if I like. I miss her though and wish that I could see her more often. But it's completely obvious what a good choice it was for her to go back to Iowa where there are so many family members to visit her. I'm glad I wrote down the stories she told me while she was living here, or someday they might feel like a dream too.
3 comments:
Again and again, we reinvent our lives. It always takes time. How wise you are to infuse your new life with creative magic and occasional guilt free days in bed.
I believe it is time for me to do some reinventing of my own life. It's story.
I am pondering this today.
I did sit down the other day and start a version of myself and my story, which I would like to leave to my kids and their kids... leaving all the bad bits in, but hopefully allowing them to decide what they think about how I handled it all and managed to keep going.. Its been quite therapeutic starting it, don't quite know how it will look when finished, just don't want it to turn into a long and wingey tale.,l will do my best not to leave a bad taste in the mouth when they have read it.. my mother started her story, so we have a fragment of how she thought, and my dad too did a bit, but its never enough, so that is why I have finally started... who knows how long we all have, and in my seventh decade, time is definitely shorter than before... good luck with yours, marvellous to be back in touch with other writing souls that evening, no wonder you were really in an up mood... all the best J
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