I need to write more.
A thought as simply as it was firmly stated;
a collection of words sparkled together in the quiet minutes between work and home,
and while I was curled up with a napping-cat in my lap,
and when I watched the shadows of skyward-stretching pine trees create an outline against an October sunset.
I need to write more.
I need to write more because I want to capture more of what it’s like in this time of our lives.
More of the in-between stories, the tiny magic.
Now, while the house is still new, and how it’s our very first fall here;
now, while husband’s beard is SO red-red and the Faces are back in hyper-snuggle mode because it’s cold out, and our yard is covered in crispy-crackly leaves.
I need to write more because this is my time capsule.
Because this is my story.
Because I’m still trying to figure out how to fill the weird space above our oven in our kitchen, and did you know I found the most darling little bread box in all the world that I’m positive was just waiting for us to bring home?
Because this is the first late-fall that I’ve strung our clothesline across the basement—
the basement where the concrete floor is covered in that hideous shade of “you really did this on purpose?” green and the walls are the same shade of yellow as they were in our old house’s laundry room—
and how we have an extra fridge in the back porch now, and the combination of having that + a kitchen island makes me want to bake all the time.I need to write more because at night, he whispers, “Come here,” and then he stretches open his arms so I can snuggle in deep to the hollow of his chest, and the bottom of his beard brushes the top of my head as his arms pull me in close.
Because we’re making new memories in a really old house, and also grilled cheese sandwiches & roasted asparagus & cookies with fresh-out-of-the-oven-melted peanut butter chips.
Because I’m never happier than when I wake up under our toasty flannel sheets and both of the Faces are tucked in with us.
Because we’re hoping so, so hard we’ll finally get trick-or-treaters for the first time since we’ve lived on our own, and how we want to put dry ice inside the front porch & a flickering LED inside husband’s drilled-dot pumpkin “because then it’s like a disco ball.“
I need to write more because it’s where my soul is at its happiest and most at home—
its very essence flying out through my fingertips with every letter and ampersand and dash.
This is how I keep my heart beating and glitter in my veins.
this is about capturing and keeping and remembering, all at once.
I need to write more, & this is my commitment that I will.
That I’ll write to live up to the spirit that’s in me.
That I’ll write to honor every little fiber of my being that whispers, write, and chants, write, and sometimes yells it when it’s not sure I was listening.
I’m listening now.