I want him to stay.
But I know he can’t.
I don’t even know why it’s a big deal.
I’m working all day. Then it’s group on Tuesday.
I go home and write. Sometimes. If he’s not there.
If he’s here, I go home and talk and laugh and watch TV and gripe and complain about who does the dishes and we debate my Young and the Restless obsession and why I should watch something different and…all the little things in life. And then I write. Sometimes.
And I lay in bed next to him listening to him breathing, inhaling his scent, luxuriating in his nearness. If he’s here.
And when he’s not I sprawl out over the entire surface and pull his pillows to me and wish the neighbors would stop talking even though it’s not that bad with ocean waves playing.
People do this. They live in separate spaces, far more than we have. I feel almost guilty for what I wish, what I want.
We’re almost there where he’ll be here all the time. We’re almost there.
Hey, You, Stop That!
Seriously. I’m talking to you.
Remember back when you were a kid and had dreams of writing, editing, publishing, (designing, drawing, painting, sculpting, singing)?
And then you went to college and tests, papers, projects, parties took the place of the dreams, but they were still there, jolting your memory every once in a while.
And then you finished college and got THE JOB that was supposed to pave the way to the dream, only it didn’t because instead, it cannibalized the dream.
Find a quiet place with a journal, some chocolate, a bottle of wine and rediscover the dream.
Don’t let the job destroy it or your family. Your passions. Life.
You have the right to a life outside the job. Don’t let work destroy you, even if you love work.
Don’t sacrifice your family, your heart, your body for a paycheck.
Remember the old saying Work to Live, not Live to Work.
And hey, you there in the mirror, it’s never too late. Remember that!
Posted in adviser, books, education, Family, fitness, newspaper, reading, school, teaching, thoughts, writing, yearbook
Tagged adviser, dreamer, mother, teacher, wife, writer
Last year’s yearbook earned Gold Medal status from Columbia Scholastic Press Association. Woo Hoo!!!!
Publication competitions are a lot like manuscript contests. Last year my book got SLAMMED. This year, they love us. I love us too, so I ignore the slam years. 🙂
I’m in San Antonio this weekend with two of my editors. We’re attending the TAJE conference. I love this conference. It’s so uplifting. And BOY do I need uplifting!
And I needed the escape from home to finish this book!
Speaking of home, I just reminded DH he wouldn’t see much of me from now until December (Deadlines, deadlines, deadlines!). His response: That sucks. But it’ll be okay AS LONG AS YOU MAKE SUPPER.
Poor, poor man.
He’s just earned himself a month of bologna.
Worst part: He has no idea why I’m upset.
If I needed proof, I’ve got it now. Men ARE from Mars.
I think I’ll pick up a bologna cookbook while I’m here. Maybe I can find a recipe with spinach. He hates spinach. 🙂