Oh, it is such poor form to be this late posting on the first Monday back from a little bloggy vacation! I’m seriously embarassed! I’ve been trying to get to a quiet spot to peck out a little something and, of course, it just couldn’t happen. I’m sorry, Dear Reader.
There were a few moments when I told myself I was just going to put up a fail post and be cool but… as I wrote a dear friend today, “entropy is a thing.” You step away from the routine and it becomes all too easy to set it aside entirely.
That’s part of the reason why I needed the break. I’d fallen out of my writing routine over the winter and it never returned come spring time. There were other projects, other distractions. I kept telling myself that I could make the time, but that time would be swallowed by other things. I needed to get back into the routine of writing and writing every day. Taking my ideas and running with them… even if they are completely awful.
I wish I could tell you that the retreat was a 100% success, that every second yielded brillance. Of course, that’s not how the universe works. I did do a lot, I did make some progress on my current project, and I planned ahead for a few more… but then I got tripped up on another story. An idea that I was really excited about only a few weeks ago, and now it has totally left me. So it goes, but it’s disappointing.
The bottom line is that I tried my best to use the time wisely, and I achieved most of the goals that I was hoping to. There was time also to reconnect with my husband, spend some time with my boys, eat some good food and drink some great booze. It has been a time. A full retreat.
The picture above is from somewhere in South Carolina between Charleston and Hilton Head Island. The Husband had to travel there for a conference and I got to tag along for only the cost of my plane ticket. It was perfect: little boys got dropped off with their grandparents, The Husband was stuck in conference rooms all day, and I was sitting on a balcony writing… or in a cabana writing… or on comfy outdoor furniture writing… or in a restaurant reading about writing… you get the idea. From time to time I was interrupted to be The Wife to The Husband, listening to very interesting and smart people speak about science and engineering things that I do not understand. I’m intellengent enough to ask the right questions to keep the conversation going, but I was all too often in way over my head.
Such a small price to pay to have quiet time alone to think and write and be. And I didn’t make my bed or wash a single dish or wipe a bum that wasn’t my own! 🙂
We left the island last week, but our travels aren’t quite over. Now is the time to see family and friends, and travel around our homestate and be tourists instead of natives. We went to the National Aquarium yesterday with my Uncle and his wonderful husband, and they spent their entire afternoon reminding me about where things used to be or have always been but I’ve forgotten. So silly…
Of course, we’d made our plans for the aquarium earlier in the week. We were just getting in the car to drive to Baltimore when the news about Orlando broke. There was so much relief on their faces to see my two little boys walk through the door… just for an opportunity to turn of the television for a little while. The tragedy was heavy on our minds, even as the two boys touched jellyfish or banged on the glass as the dolphins went by. There were moments of sorrow, moments of joy, moments of distance.
Everyone in my Facebook feed has chosen their sides: It’s either all about terrorism or it’s about homophobia or it’s about gun control. No blending. Just yelling. No nuance. Just anguish. I’m usually quick to write out my own tirade about what’s wrong with the world, but I haven’t this time. It strikes so many cords. How many wonderful gay men do I love beyond measure? How many of them were in a club just like Pulse on Saturday? How many beautiful and hilarious lesbian women do I love beyond measure? How many of them were in a club just like Pulse on Saturday?
How much infrastructure have I crossed over during my travels? How many “soft targets”did I trust to get to my dream vacation last weekend? How much of my life is about trusting my two boys to those places, as well?
It is a terrible world. So much rage, so much hate. The very things that make this life so free and beautiful are incomprehensibly fragile, deceptive in their simplicity and their regularity. This life is here until it is not. This life is complicated and goes on forever until it reaches its end. This life is beautiful until the frayed edges (ever present) reach far enough into the fabric to be undeniable.
And though I’ve written some hundred words about it, I’ve written nothing at all. There are no words for this. Only grief. I am grieving. I am reaching out to those I love, I am doing my best to be an active and informed citizen, and I am striving to be an ally and a responsible human being.
It will never be enough in a world so big.
I’m back to writing, Dear Reader. Thank you for your patience with me. Thank you for allowing me this time to regroup, rethink and recharge.
Let’s get something done this week, Dear Reader. Something positive to counterbalance the pain. You do your part and I’ll do mine and we’ll meet back here on Wednesday, ok?
Until then, my Dear Reader, take care.