|2013-11-10 - 8:58 p.m.
I finished the writing retreat in which I cried real hot shameful envious tears over a deconstruction of an Olive Kitteridge chaper - I miss close readings, I miss close readings, I miss close readings - oh why cant we all be English Majors on lifetime scholarships forever? It was humbling and inspiring and as I peeled out of the parking lot, I was just a little proud of myself. Brenton Woods Greatest Hits (Gimme a Little Sign, surely a Top 40 Pop Song of all time) was blasting and suddenly I was driving alone on unfamiliar roads after a weekend away, taking a ferry, after sharing my work with people, thinking hard about what dreams are all about and what's next and even though some days I worry it's all old and over, I realize five years ago I couldn't drive a car, let alone own one, let alone drive away for the weekend with my completed YA manuscript in my bag. So you know, things can and do change.
And then afterwards you get to kiss your husband and your kid (here cheek is so smooth, oh 5 year old skin and 5 year old hugs) and go to bed in your own soft lovely bed, but not really the same. It's not all over, not quite yet.
older :: newer