I’ve returned from New England, a week spent visiting my mom, playing with grandkids, and soaking up sun. I also managed to eat swordfish-twice.
In spare minutes, I read (books on the beach, my iPad on the train, and my Feedly feed on my laptop). What I didn’t do was write. But I’m ready to dive in again. I always manage to find nuggets of joy and sadness when I visit my mom, thoughts I process by writing.
But that’s not all I brought home. I’ve learned to pause and record conversations and feelings that I’ll mix and remix later in poetry and prose. From this visit, I’m considering:
- a sailboat race with a small, blond child (she looked so fierce)
- a strange conversation between three 20-somethings about their parents
- a drunk women on the train who tried to engage other passengers in bizarre conversations
- my father’s workshop (a topic I am revisiting)
Now, where to start……..