This summer has been... a summer. And the hardest part of it has been my inability to write--some for emotional reasons, some because of logistics (travel and cat sitting and basically being the responsible big sister stuff,) and some because of exhaustion because of the logistics stuff.
And then, I was SO AFRAID I forgot how to write. It reminds me a little bit of how scared I get every time I step on the ice, before my body realizes it knows what it's doing and I remember how much I LOVE skating. Sometimes, the only thing that keeps me going back to the rink is that I have standing lessons, or that I need to practice, or just remembering that I need exercise. Thinking of writing after a long period of not feels just like that, like I'm so afraid I'm going to fall and break something.
But, then, I wrote a little yesterday morning, and it reminded me so much of the relief I felt when I wrote this post, quoting from Emily's Quest:
It Feels So Good To Write...
... after a few days where I couldn't:
"MAY 15, 19--
"This has been a lyric spring day--and a miracle has happened. It happened at dawn--when I was leaning out of my window, listening to a little, whispering, tricksy wind o' morning blowing out of Lofty John's bush. Suddenly--the flash came--again--after these long months of absence--my old, inexpressible glimpse of eternity. And all at once I knew I could write. I rushed to my desk and seized my pen. All the hours of early morning I wrote; and when I heard Cousin Jimmy going downstairs I flung down my pen and bowed my head over my desk in utter thankfulness that I could work again.
...
"MAY 15, 19--
"This has been a lyric spring day--and a miracle has happened. It happened at dawn--when I was leaning out of my window, listening to a little, whispering, tricksy wind o' morning blowing out of Lofty John's bush. Suddenly--the flash came--again--after these long months of absence--my old, inexpressible glimpse of eternity. And all at once I knew I could write. I rushed to my desk and seized my pen. All the hours of early morning I wrote; and when I heard Cousin Jimmy going downstairs I flung down my pen and bowed my head over my desk in utter thankfulness that I could work again.
...
(click through to see the rest of the quote)
"But the work for which we are fitted--which we feel we are sent into the world to do--what a blessing it is and what fullness of joy it holds. I felt this to-day as the old fever burned in my finger-tips and my pen once more seemed a friend." L.M. Montgomery, Emily's Quest
It's nice to have my old friend back. So, so nice.
"But the work for which we are fitted--which we feel we are sent into the world to do--what a blessing it is and what fullness of joy it holds. I felt this to-day as the old fever burned in my finger-tips and my pen once more seemed a friend." L.M. Montgomery, Emily's Quest
It's nice to have my old friend back. So, so nice.
