It’s Day 17 of Kickin’ It Old Skool Blog-a-thon. I, unfortunately, have missed three of the 17 days, but I’m actually sort of psyched that I’ve written 14 of them. I was totally cool about it (smug even) during the first week and half of December. “Hey, I got this. No problem.” Then…
final exams, research projects to grade, writing portfolios to grade, basketball practice, Christmas play practice, Boy Scout socials, church committee meetings, shopping, cooking, doing enough laundry so that we don’t have to turn our underwear inside out… well, you get it. Stuff happened.
Still, I have enjoyed the heck out of this opportunity to sit down and write for pure old fun. And to have someone else give me the daily topic? That’s even better.
So for day 17, we’re doing some free association (something I do with my students when they are beginning poetry). Here’s how it works:
You share what they inspire in you.
Baptism, old time religion, singings on a Sunday afternoon, picnic on the grounds. (If you’re Southern, you know what the heck I’m talking about.) Sunlight glinting off the water, a bank where I can sit, my feet dangling in the icy water. Freedom from all that worries me, from aching, from feeling worn down. A river is a place of renewal. You can trust, fall back, and know that you will rise again.
Fruits and vegetables; green grass in the summer; water; no make-up; sweaty glow and air in my lungs; waking up when I want to, not when an alarm goes off; lying in bed with sunlight streaming in the windows; excitement about the day ahead.
Home. To be alone, just the four of us, at home. Naps and fresh bread baking; good books and time in the garden; sitting on the porch. Sitting. Doing nothing. The hammock. Pulling weeds. No where to go. Nothing to do.
Right now. The chance to snuggle. To play Legos. To read a story, maybe even three. Stopping to let him crack the egg even though it will be messier and slower and there may be shells in the cupcakes. Breathing. Realizing that two extra minutes of calm is better than two extra minutes of screaming. Taking the time to listen.
Quiet. Moonlight through the trees outside my bedroom window. Quilts. Fireplace. A clock ticking. Rest. The cure for what ails me most days. There’s not enough of it. Silence. A chance to be at home.
If there’s a theme that I see emerging here, it is this: I love to be at home. I need to be at home. I miss being at home when life is crazy and over-scheduled and busier than I want it to be. I need home in order to feel refreshed, renewed, and sane. I am feeling a deep craving for more home time right now. Me– in my house– with the three people I love most in the world and a few furry friends too. Cooking. Reading. Sitting in front of the fire. Writing. Making crafts. Sometimes I miss that part of my life. While I love the new things I have going on (though some of this holiday scheduling is not my favorite), I sometimes miss those small things, the opportunity to just BE in my house, so much I almost feel physically sick. I am homesick.
*This is a perfect example of how words and writing them down, especially in this free-writing format, can show us things we might not be aware of. This entry didn’t turn out the way I had envisioned it when I read the prompt this morning. But now, in my exhaustion and general irritation, I see that I desperately need some downtime at home. Like I said, it’s not what I expected, but it is what I need.