Beatrix is napping right now. I can't believe it!! Blogging in the daytime is my absolute favorite. It's probably what I miss the most since the napping era ended about a year ago. The opportunity to write. For the life of me, I just can't compose a decent sentence at night. Much less a whole post which means anything to anyone.
This poor space. It's so haphazard and non-traditional, I'd say, as far as blogs go. I was never one to offer tutorials or recipes, advice and tips on this, that, or the other. It's just not my thing, though, I'm grateful for everyone else who does it. I'm most definitely not a technical writer and I'm okay with that. I have the most fun here at Live Free when I have the chance to blabber on about the experiences and emotions of daily life. At my best, I feel most authentic when I'm able to thread words into thoughts that somehow attempt to upturn a hidden connection amongst us all ~ as people, as mothers, as teachers, or daughters. Whoever we may be. I firmly beleive, that at our core, we are always more alike than we are different.
Sometimes, as I'm hanging out laundry, or organizing an art shelf, or watching my little one dance to The Nutcracker one more time, thoughts spill out of me into the atmosphere, disapating as quickly as they arrived. Oftentimes, even I doubt their true existence. Other times, I can't for the life of me think of one single aspect of my daily life worth writing about. Not that my life is unworthy. Not at all. It's just that these days are filled with the upkeep of the mundane. My days hum to the tune of ordinary. Another sinkful of dishes. A breakfast of eggs and bacon. A walk through the neighborhood. Another nature hike. Time to tidy up. P,b and j for lunch. Apples for tea. Beans and rice at dinnertime. And in between all of that, there are funny, little conversations, there's grocery shopping, there's an email returned here and there. There are library books to return. Bills to pay. There's an Instagram photo of another cup of coffee, or a blooming something, or folded laundry, or a playing little one, etc.
Plain and simple moments.
I'm at that point in my life where I pretty much have it figured out that I won't be remembered as a transforational figure to anything of great importance or to anyone beyond my closest of friends and family. Those few know my heart and know how hard I work at being just a tad bit beyond mediocre. I'm not alone, I'm just common. Maybe I've reached my greatest potential, right here, right now. If I sitting here wondering, perhaps I still have a ways more to go. We can always dream.
But darn it, as long as there is a kid sharing this roof with me, one thing will always be certain: when the house is quiet and still in the daytime, I'm gonna keep trying to write.
