one of my wishes is that those dark trees,
So old and firm they scarcely show the breeze,
Were not, as ’twere, the merest mask of gloom,
But stretched away unto the edge of doom.

I should not be withheld but that some day
Into their vastness I should steal away,
Fearless of ever finding open land,
Or highway where the slow wheel pours the sand.

I do not see why I should e’er turn back,
Or those should not set forth upon my track
To overtake me, who should miss me here
And long to know if still I held them dear.

They would not find me changed from him they knew—
Only more sure of all I thought was true.

--Robert Frost--

there is a lot going on right now. this month of july is jam-packed, not least of which is my fulltime job--now encompassing approximately 2 1/2 fulltime positions which we can't fill right now--and moving. it could be--and often is--overwhelming. throw in a half marathon, a trip to seattle to see the yankees and mariners with The Papa, another weekend trip to seattle for bridesmaid dress shopping with my other 1/3s (both of them, YAY!!), dodgeball, softball, and the miscellaneous mundane tasks making up my days, and i can see it flying by before it's even begun. i'm pleasing as many people as possible, and i know that at least one other person will be furious with me, but it can't be helped. i have to protect myself as well.

and yet none of that is now bothering me. my SIL gave me the best gift tonight, a free pass to take the time with my other 1/3s, an ear, a comrade to laugh with and bemoan the state of our house. and in doing so i found a way to ease her mind a little, cleaning the rooms that were unbearable for her. work today was wonderful. so productive, so fun, so full of sweet wonderful people who i truly love working with. dodgeball was awesome, despite the jammed finger and horrific bruise on my leg. and i mended a fence with one of my other 1/3s, a necessary phone call and extension of my hand.

so now my mind, so often full of everything else, drains tonight and i can only see my writing. i wonder what has happened to it, what i can do to get it back. my novel is almost 1/2 way done and yet all i can do is reread what i have, over and over. the short stories, poems, essays--all ceased. the words that flowed from my fingers have dried up and i'm left searching for my own self. it is only clear to me now that i will, at some point, need to seek the woods above and find what i thought was true bolstered up, strengthened, resting on pylons secured in the sand watching the waves move in and out endlessly, dependable.

in the meantime i will anchor my days with the SIL and Bro, the Mother of sainthood, the Papa, the friends, the work, the next challenge, and the next adventure. i can only believe in the power of words and i can only believe that they will come back. they always do. and i always come back a little more sure of that which i thought was true.