It’s May 1 and a beautiful day. I’ve been for a walk with S and he’s now sitting out on my front deck, captivated by a Harlan Coben novel. I lent him the couple of hardbacks I still have and he’s already finished the first and is onto the second. It’s very easy to sink into these and not come up for air until you’ve turned the last page. Been there; done that. But that’s not what I wanted to write about today.
For the last couple of months I’ve been having a hard time sitting down to write. Thoughts and ideas for new posts have come and gone without me so much as even making a mental note to develop them further. I wanted to write a poem for Poetry Month before April slipped past me, but here we are. No new poem. And I suppose writing one just because someone designated that month as the most poetic one may not result in the most beautiful or inspiring words I ever strung together. So I don’t feel too awful about not writing one.
But I do want to write. I don’t want to be someone who only writes when they’re upset or depressed or sad — when things aren’t going right. I want to write about the things and people that bring joy to my life. I want to write about cooking and baking, I want to write about the love I’ve found. I want to share my travel photos and tell you about my last trip. I want to tell you that after everything that’s happened, after all the misery I shared with you here, in the end, I’m fine. I’m happy.
Why is it harder to write about that? Is it that the adage that misery loves company is true and the opposite of that is that when you’re happy you’re caught up in some kind of bubble and you don’t want to let anyone else in and thereby take a chance of bursting it? Am I making too much of it?
Could be simply that I’ve been too busy to write. I’ve been reading more lately. I just finished The Silent Patient and I was completely surprised by the twist near the end. Not too long ago I read Mitch Albom’s The Stranger in the Lifeboat. I wanted to write some thoughts about that book but those observations are now long gone. I’ve also listened to a couple audiobooks recently. We listened to Oh William in the car as we drove to and from Savannah, and before that, I listened to The Guilt Trip while I went on my lunchtime walks. Maybe reading will lead to more writing eventually.
The trip to Savannah was great. I will try to write it up soon and share more of the pictures. Being there with someone, someone I care about so much, was a completely different experience from a year ago. And I got a lot of steps in.
I’ve been in an odd mood today. Maybe it’s the upcoming dentist appointment to take care of some overdue repairs, or the lingering itch and redness in my ear from a recent infection. Could just be the Sunday blues, but however it started it did not help to hear that my downstairs neighbor passed away suddenly while she was dogsitting at her daughter’s house. She lived alone, didn’t leave her apartment for days, and apparently, she had a daughter with at least one dog. Not hard to relate more than just a little and start thinking about your own mortality. You never know when it’s your time to go.
So on that morbid thought, I will consider this post a step closer to getting back to writing and go see how S is getting on with Win. Might be time to start thinking about food soon. Have a great week; hope to be back here soon.