UNWRITTEN

I'm gazing out the window with big ideas while I do the dishes. 

I'm driving home, listening to a podcast and am struck with insight. 

I'm talking with my children about how to work something out and I find myself threading inspiration. 

These lovely threads unravel before I make notes. 

Too pressed for time to stop washing dishes and write. Too loving to leave a cuddle huddle and take a note. I will not pull my car over to create a voice memo. 

This is not how a novel is written, or a short story, or a blog post. 

I've been working a lot. Long weeks, days rolling into one another. I'm the chef, the cleaner, the errand runner, the mom. My partner is juggernauting the mess our house is in after a flood. It's as though we both have two full time jobs. 

A fifty hour work week, good family life with school-age kids and a marriage to be present for is not a recipe for my creative writing to be able to flow consistently. Friendships, art projects, forest walks, exploration - When?

I'm finding companionship in the kitchen with my children, if not time to work on personal projects. My life is being lived artfully, I can wager. From the outside, I'm probably still a bohemian pixie living on their own terms. From the inside, I'm remembering gratitude. I get to live this way. I may be overworked but I have time for belly laughs and creative thinking. 

As I reflect on a another bright notion doomed to be lost before I solidify it, I see I am living well enough to have inspirations. I'm grateful. Stay curious, stay inspired, stay creative. It's almost a mantra. This is going to get me through to a time where I have more space. 

For now, I will take my extra time to enjoy my children, without regret. We drive down country roads, listening to music and talking.  Sometimes we play a certain song (Unwritten) and laugh. It might feel silly, but it is  good for our souls. The three of us singing loudly (and horribly). The message loud & clear. We are ridiculous, we are alive. Things aren't perfect, but they are pretty good. I'm always writing my book.

Reaching for something in the distance

So close you can almost taste it

Release your inhibitions

Feel the rain on your skin 

No one else can feel it for you

Only you can let it in

No one else, no one else

Can speak the words on your lips

Drench yourself in words unspoken

Live your life with arms wide open

Today is where your book begins

The rest is still unwritten