I woke early this morning with thoughts jumping around in my head. I would have liked to turn over and fall back into a dream filled sleep, but I was awake and there was nothing to do but start my day. It wasn't a surprise to open the shutters and find snow clinging to the branches; it began falling long before my bedtime.
I sat at the window, alone, listening to the quiet of the morning wrapped in the pristine white blanket that fell overnight. I was craving the quiet, a time to sit and stare. Looking away from the window, glancing around the room my eyes stopped at my writing desk. Perched on the corner was my long forgotten journal and pen.
I moved over to my desk and opened what once was a constant companion, but now only an acquaintance. Near the back of the journal was my last entry dated 25 July 2013. Had it really been so long since I had picked up my pen? I turned to the first empty page and began. Words fell like tears, and a few were of tears; some were words of anger and anxiety. I was disposing of the clutter which had tethered my heart and halted my pen so many months ago. And, it felt as if I had found a long lost confidant. Words became sentences...sentences filled the pages until I noticed how quickly the tone had changed to that of surprise, joy and promise. I wrote unedited until I had nothing left to put on paper. I closed my book, and safely secured the stories that are not mine to tell, but weighed so heavily, within those pages. I haven't stopped caring, but placed those cares away for safekeeping making room for all that tomorrow will bring...
the good and the bad.
I'm not for certain why I stopped my daily journaling; I suspect things were happening I didn't want to remember. Writing something down often makes it too real, too permanent. I have kept some form of a journal most of my life, and yet I forgot writing is really a way of putting life's events into perspective It may take a bit of discipline to return to the routine of daily writings, but I don't think I can afford not to continue.
As I write this post I look out to see snow beginning to slide off the branches and leaves of shrubs and evergreens just as the quiet solitude of the morning gently slid into a day filled with the sounds of the business side of life.
Do you keep a daily journal?
(Quite possibly you are feeling the need to vent against those who keep extolling the virtues of winter?)
Enjoy the Olympics,
stay safe and warm dear friends!