Starting Over Again

 "Hallelujah" starts playing.

The sad one

with major lifts.

Fitting, I supose.

 Opened Blogger, counting.

Verified for Instagram

the 960 entries.

This makes 961

if I publish.

One would think,

COVID equals TIME.

Words should've poured.

"Document it all!"

Hah.  As if.

Keeping children fed,

bathed, educated, stimulated.

That took everything.

I was spent.

Words didn't come.

They still don't.

Not really, anyways.

But, today, again.

I start over.

I type words.

One, two, three.

It's a start.

Also. A goodbye.

Book of Truth,

no more Neeb.

I'm not ready.

Please don't retire,

It's too late.

House is listed.

Email is revoked.

He's left me.

Not his fault,

but still gone.

So, new guy.

Last name unpronounceable.

Going with Gary.

Hope he's good.

Hope he's brave.

I've got baggage

and it's heavy.

His turn now

to help process.

heal, rally, persevere.

Mental health matters. 

Grief. PTSD. Insomnia.

My "other" trifecta.

Flip flops on.

Fancy earrings in.

Left off mascara.

I've got this.

Eleventh Hour Deadline

Definitely not habitual.

Writing anything today?

Completely off radar.

Instead, lunch date.

Overdue, anticipated, celebratory.

Queso, pear martini,

Favorite Alex's salad.

Arrived home only

slightly before bus.

Homework, soccer, backpacks...

at least THIS

drill is habitual.

PJs, Grey's, then

charcoal mask, Ambien.

But a reminder:

write your blog.

Fine.   You win.

Now, I'll sleep.

A Simple Tuesday

Last night: inspired.

Today: writer's block.

Kindle download instead.

Trilogy.  One down.

Second immediately followed.

Afternoon passed, reading.

Air brakes hiss,

trio plus one

invades the quiet.

Novel begrudgingly paused:

must chase dog,

chasing two boys

behind the barn,

over the creek,

into the soybeans,

breaking her boundaries.

Please, no ticks.

Dog, son, friend --

home, albeit dirty.

Burgers, soccer, spelling,

showers, nightlight, kisses.

Sister prompts: blog?

I'd rather read,

but comply instead.

String word triplets

into this post.

Not my finest,

but that's alright.

It is something

to mark today.

A new author.

A quiet afternoon.

Orange tee shirts

on a quest,

puppy in pursuit.

Back-to-back

blog posts published.

Not habitual yet,

but a start.

One more time

Oh, why not?

Maybe this time.

Will it stick?

I miss it.

You might read.

(You might not.)

Discipline is healthy.

Writing trumps exercise.

(In my book.)

This isn't poetry,

haiku, or sonnet.

Not Shakespeare, Hemingway,

or even Suess.

It's just me.

Trying yet again

to get back

to that girl

who once wrote

all the things,

all the words,

no matter what.

No matter who

read the posts.

Or even if.

I've said before

"she's still here."

Ten years ago,

I started blogging.

My mom journey

was just beginning.

Here I am,

my caboose child

gone to kinder.

The house, quiet.

The cursor, beckoning.

The web, transformed,

unrecognizable from 2007.

Everyone's doing it.

Actually, done it.

Now, it's podcasts.

Maybe that'll come.

For now, typing.

Words and spacing.

Black and white.

Familiar, these strokes.

Baby steps, perhaps.

Three words only,

each line is.

But strung together?

Look! She writes!

A post appears...


***************

Once upon a time, I had a label "Your 3 Words."  It was someone else's concept, and I only did it twice before today.  But I thought it might be an easy way back into this writing groove I so desperately want to wear into my days.  Here is an attempt, this week.  Each day, a Your-3-Words post to jump start this ancient, rusty, neglected girl back into commission.

Wish me luck.

See you tomorrow.

You can comment.

I won't mind.

Really.  Go ahead.

It might help.

Hint hint hint. ;)

Drives me nuts…

But it’s relatively harmless (to both them and the couches),

And it keeps them happy for a good while,

And it’s one of the few things they can “play” together,

So I suppose I shouldn’t roll my eyes too heavily,

BUT….

Man, it drives me nuts!

Outside my window…

Storms have been raging, just like everywhere else in the midwest, but look what is safe in the shelter of my bedroom windowsill:

I’ve been trying to take daily pics of the nest (as of Tuesday, all three eggs had hatched), but the rain has kept me away.  But each day, when I wake, I peek out through the mini-blinds to see the momma bird keeping her little ones warm.  It’s an awesome way to start my day.