7/17/12
Sometimes I look up at the number of the post I am writing and have to marvel just a bit. I can't believe I have actually written 199 days in a row. Granted, some have been horrible, some mediocre, but some have actually been something, and that's why we writers do this shit in the first place. I have made the executive decision today to continue writing every day beyond the "year of writing." Maybe next year I'll have to up the ante somehow, I'm not sure, all I know is that this has been extremely hard, and extremely necessary to do in order to stay sane.
My front yard.
The light filtered through a low-hanging oak
branch makes my son's eyes glow grey. We
sit on a beat up red blanket, left from Mema
in a back closet, it's been 10 years, but still
smells like her. My daughter rides a plastic
tricycle in the driveway, a one-eyed teddy
bear in tow. A squirrel jumps from the oak
to a thin branch of a guava tree. The branch
bends low to the ground, the squirrel hanging
on desperately as it springs back into shape.
We've all seen the trapeze act, my children
and I, we all smile at each other on this red
blanket, in this place we've made.
No comments:
Post a Comment