It's 75 degrees. The breeze is warm and steady. I smell fresh cut grass and the mossy hint of petunias. My cinnamon coffee is resting on the arm of my fake Adirondack chair and I'm writing in my current notebook, which was purchased well over a year ago.
In my defense, this notebook is more than three quarters full, but it's still no excuse for my non-existent writing habits.
The excuse never changes though. "Too busy" seems to be the standing lament in my world. And if I recited all the things I do on a weekly basis, it would be a valid excuse. But it still doesn't stop the nagging feeling that I wish I could do something different with my life.
I love my job. I do. I love my customers and my co-workers. If I have to work, this is the perfect job. Really, how many people can say that? It's just that I'm two days into a four day vacation and I'm realizing all the things I can't do because of work.
I can't take Drew to the zoo or sit under the tree and share a picnic lunch. I can't get up and take a long walk to prepare myself for the day. I can't sit in my fake Adirondack and write my novel. I can't be the mom, wife, daughter and friend that I really want to be.
Do all of those things on the weekend you say. I know, but I don't.
I've been plagued with migraines again lately and I'm bone tired more days than I'm not. Each week my goal is to do laundry, get groceries and clean the house after work so I have more time on my cherished weekends. It never happens.
And so it continues week after week, month upon month until a year has surprisingly slipped by.
It's really not important that I write. I've sort of resigned myself to the idea that I most likely will never have a published work. I sure miss the dream though. I miss the practice and the exercise.
It's not just that I can't find the physical time. It's the mental energy that I lack. My mind just doesn't want to work "after hours" and thus I've taken to watching meaningless crap on television to basically fill the silence.
One thing I've learned in this lapsed year though is to just ride each swell of longing or discontent until the next "feel good" wave inevitably comes. I guess really, that's the most important thing any of us can learn in this world where we can't have everything we want.