The brass clock clicks on noon as I lean my head on the wooden shelf of my cubby and wait for the words to come. Inhale. The edge of the panel digs into my temple. No topic today, though there’s is a whirlpool inside--ideas relating to two small projects I am in the middle of. I’m on hold with both and finding it difficult to force my focus elsewhere.
I could, I suppose, wander down the carpeted steps to the basement and the laundry that I put in while my daughter was in the shower this morning. I forget. I always do. By the time I remember, its 6:10 a.m., I’ve got no clean socks, and it will go another day if I don’t gather it up. Right. Now. At least I turned the water to “cold wash” so the resulting trickle in the shower was lukewarm. Sorry to say, the words I received upon our daughter’s exodus were not.
Our basement however, is the cat’s domain. She crawls on top of the vinyl boat cushions my husband stores in the rafters and sleeps until mid-afternoon. If I wake her, I’m in for it. She’ll stand by me at my writing chair, winding herself in and out through my legs, yowling. If I try to pick her up, she’ll run away. She might let me pet her, but that inhibits the typing and though she purrs while I stroke her, one second too long and she nips my legs. The laundry will have to wait my friends. In the drier. Tomorrow. 6:10 a.m.
Earlier, I was able to pull my thoughts from the freelance work long enough for a final review on a essay for an on line contest—I adapted a blog post from a few months ago and have spent weeks polishing it up. Today I dared to press send. I don’t expect to win, but am patting myself on the back. In truth, I could wait another six weeks and still find changes to the piece, because writing is never done. But at some point, you have to have faith that your baby can manage away from you, even though you’ll bite your nails with worry and pray it puts on a good showing.
Writing, in so many ways, is about letting go. You have to trust that you’ve nurtured and cherished the piece long enough to let it out to the real world—that along the way, it has absorbed the best lessons you’ve learned—which is something I can’t give myself credit for with today’s Middle Passages post.
Do you post on your blog when you are clearly stumped?