My teenage son’s sweaty, dirt-stained baseball uniform is piled outside my bedroom door, my reminder to wash them before tomorrow’s game. Chlorine-drenched towels from my daughter’s swim and dive practices dot the stairs and entryway. I make a loop around the house and gather the discarded towels and stray socks, hydroflasks and goggles, baseball hats and eye black. Our home has morphed into one big locker room.
These summer days feel endless…
For a few lovely hours I lived inside Maggie O’Farrell’s Land, the harsh environment of Ireland in the 1800s after the Great Hunger both heartbreaking and magical. Such beautiful writing, so much detail and attention put towards the history and events that shaped this world. I was in awe of O’Farrell’s storytelling, rooting for the survival and happiness of each character. As I tucked my toes under a light blanket and settled into a comfortable chair to read, I felt grateful for the escape and complete immersion in this novel.
Highlights of my week included going out to dinner with Charlie, playing Mahjong with friends, riding my Vespa on the quiet streets of our neighborhood. I went country line dancing with friends, relaxed at a spa for my birthday (thank you Ryan), and took walks with Hazel. This weekend we will have friends over, celebrate Father’s Day, catch more World Cup action. We will sip wine on the porch.
Endless summer days, I’m here for it all.
I’m not doing much writing and I can’t really figure out what that’s about. I’m trying to be patient, give myself grace, work through this hesitation to come through the other side. Every day I plan to work on my memoir or write something new. But I only ever scratch the surface, the words don’t pull me in. Is this just a passing thing, a season to my writing like any other? Do I wait it out or push through?
Author Pam Allyn has this wonderful quote: “Reading is breathing in; writing is breathing out.”
Lately it feels as if I’m holding my breath. What am I waiting for?
Until I figure that out, I will continue to absorb good stories written by others. My list of books to read feels endless, just like these summer days.
A book run on the Vespa to my local indie is my new favorite thing! How are you enjoying your summer?
Thank you for reading Work in Progress.
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