Stats down and site visitors reduced, I felt quite compelled to speak. Not that I have to explain. This hour, those usually zesty neurons are zonked out, and my body is close to surrendering itself entirely to the bed. But alas, requirements must be met and on-time. It is only 9:30, yes, and a friend, surprised, once exclaimed, “WHO THE HELL SLEEPS AT 9?!”.
|A beach retreat would be nice ’round this time.|
I am not complaining; I am beyond grateful. Never knew freelancing could be this lucrative.
3. Yesterday, I made a pact with myself, which I shared on Facebook.
She stopped momentarily, bit the pen while examining her masterpiece. Perhaps she’ll be a Picasso someday. Her intent and focus were dumbfounding. She has never stopped that long to mull over things. Like a ripple in a mad storm, she is in constant motion: scooting up the staircase, walking to and fro the dining room to the couch, hauling utensils out the kitchen drawer. Even in her sleep, she would wave a hand as she snores.
That moment made me laugh. For at the same time, she was a curious 13 month old, and oddly enough, a blooming grown-up figuring out the sense in her actions. It also made me realize that I don’t ever want moments like that to slip away without meaning. They may mean little to her when she grows up, but it would mean the world to me when she’s already venturing out into the world on her own and all I am is an old hag in a wooden chair, looking out the tangerine sunset.
A door that swings both ways, as I please.
Ergo, nearly impossible as it is, I made the promise that I will write of her each day, no matter how trivial or ordinary the day was. Here’s to hoping promises will be kept.