It’s not like I gave up blogging or writing or thinking for
that matter I just haven’t done it in a while. Well, besides the thinking. Over
thinking actually. I probably do a little too much thinking and little less
articulating lately.
I may implode because of this.
So here I am at far too early in the morning (why the hell
was I up at 4?!) forcing myself to sit down , turn on the computer and allow
these fingers to tap something onto the keyboard so I can release whatever my
little heart desires.
I have so many thoughts, ideas, wonderment and visions
that I cannot even figure out what the hell to write about these days. My brain
has been a cumbersome puzzle of cobwebs and stress and the idea of even trying
to fit the pieces together makes me feel like I have one foot dangling over the
tipping point of a mental explosion. I
don’t know why. It just is.
I haven’t a clue what this blog is about or if it will even
have a topic so allow me to ramble until I figure out what it is I’m writing
about.
Let’s start with this: The anniversary of my Mom’s death was
the other day. It’s been 4 years. It likely prompted me to be at this computer
right now since I blog about her every year on this date and realized “why
don’t I write anymore?” I was going to create a whole piece about how I am
still and shall forever be affected by her absence from my life and of all the
things I’d like to tell her that I never got to but honestly, the pain I feel
this year is too deep, like really deep to the core so much it makes my bones
ache and the thought of even expressing it immediately makes my eyes well up
with tears and then there’s a lump of coal that magically slips into my throat
and my glands ache and my nose starts running and ashes to ashes we all fall
down. I can’t even do the ring around
the rosie this year because I just can’t. I. Just. Can’t. God I miss her. I
can’t even put it into words this year and I’m a wizard at vocabulary.
Which brings up a funny story, the lump is going down now so
let me see if I can get this out.
I’m good at spelling. I don’t know why I just
am. Born that way. So I remember one day in grade school, I’m guessing it was 4th
grade because I was wearing a teal colored waffle knit sweater and a pink
beaded necklace and I relate my outfits to my age (it’s the fashionista in me)
anyway, I had an A+ on my spelling test per the usual (not bragging, it just
is) and it was lying on the counter. My Mom said something like “Well you must
really study hard in Spelling you always get them all right.” And I said “What
do you mean study?” I really didn’t know
what she meant. “Well study the words. You must read them over a lot or
practice writing them down since you get them all right.”
I was baffled. I
didn’t realize people studied their spelling lists. I would briefly skim it and
throw it away wondering why the teacher gave us the list of words. I remember
having this epiphany. I can tell my Mom did too. When she realized that I would see a word
once and somehow remember how it was spelled she thought that was pretty neat. Sort
of shook her head and smiled.
I ‘m 38 years old now and I haven’t thought about that day
in a really long time but I can say that it stuck with me because I remember
sitting at the yellow counter-top and looking at the twisted up jelly bracelets on my arm
(definitely 4th grade) and she softly said as she walked away (I remember
the back of her white sweatshirt, that’s all she wore black and white), “Well
maybe that means you’ll be a writer someday.”
Maybe that means you’ll be a writer someday. Maybe it does.
Maybe it did. Maybe it still does? I am a writer. It’s what I do. I think and
write and think and write and yet I have neglected this for a while now because
life got in the way. Time doesn’t slow down enough for me to catch my thoughts
before they slip away into the stress of the day.
What am I blogging about again?
Who the hell knows. What I do know is this: I feel complete
when I write. I feel like a loose thread when I don’t. Perhaps that’s why I’ve
been unraveling lately. Writing feeds my soul. A soul that is so mysteriously
complicated that even I can’t understand it. So that is why I sat down today.
To realize that I NEED to write. I BLEED to write.
And I really miss my MOM. Fiercely.
*Please don’t judge my spelling errors in my blog, I’m a
wizard not a genius and I haven’t had my coffee yet.
