reprieve                                                         

An unexpected day off. Time enough to wash my hair. Dry it even. Put in product, remember that it shines. Time enough for a second (first) cup of coffee. An over-stuffed arm chair. Time enough for pages empty of words, so full up of write.

But there is no place to begin, having gone this far along. I've started something of another place, a place devoted only to that which I was intent on avoiding: mommyblogginess. It is one of the many ways in which I am salting my words, in effort to make them easier to swallow. There is much that needs to be documented, the mundane and sweet daily doings, the messy, complicated emotions, the excrutiating cliches, the insurmountable loneliness. 

But it's nascent. New. Newer than she is. Not ready yet to step lightly out into the bright glare of morning.

 place holder                                                        
There is so much. Yes, she's here. Yes, she's perfect. Yes, I'm exhausted. 

Somehow, there is no time. I don't know why I am so surprised. There are about ten thousand things that I have written, invisibly, so far. All of them lost, for now, into the recesses of my brain.

I will say this - I am newly, strangely, unexpectedly lonely. This is startling; I am no longer the easy creature of solitude I used to be. I miss my mother. I miss my friends. I am tired and bored of New Hampshire. I find myself seeking paved roads and placing to buy things. This is unexpected, too. Hurried as I was to leave the city. To live in the country.

This is the country. I'm trying. 

But there is too much, so much, to get out first. But not now. Some other time. Soon.