Someone told me the other day that they miss me writing.
It was a kind thing to say, in that what they meant was they enjoy my writing, and how simultaneously flattering and humbling is that? And I smiled and said, “Yeah, I need to get back to it!”
But the truth is that I have not stopped writing in the past year, actually.
I have written pages and pages and shared nothing; not because I am done with writing or this space, but because it is not ready to be shared. And I am slowly becoming okay with that.
There is not a time limit. Even if I were to get hit by a bus tomorrow, I assume someone would go through the journals and phone notes and Google Docs and find it all. The words might not make as much sense without me there to pull the common thread through — “Here, here’s where I was going with all of this!” — but they would exist and others would find the threads they needed and all would be well. The world is full of wonderful voices. I don’t need to be in a hurry to add mine to it.
I went to write an apology or explanation today of what I’ve been up to and why my attempts to post regularly here have failed, but I am writing this instead, more for me than you. Always hoping to get back in a rhythm here, but not rushing it. :)
