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Giving Myself the Time to Reflect Here

September 1, 2015

On a run through Brooklyn Bridge Park, I stopped for a sunset

 

Even though there are still technical days left of summer, the start of September is always the start of my ‘fall’. And fall is when I begin my new year. This September I’ll begin a brand new novel that’s been edging its way into my heart and mind. I’ll confess, these days, there’s hardly time to stop and let a a story find its way. But I’m trying to find moments to slow down.

 

I realize, the lack of time to reflect is what pushes me away from this space. I wake up to my son ‘chirping’ (as we call it) and there’s barely a moment to wipe the sleep from my eyes. I’m immediately thrust into the day, as he squirms up to our bed, and I’m in game of ‘catch’, to keep little hands away from the lotion on the nightstand, the lamp, the hardcover of a book, or the iPad I’ve left to close to the edge.  

 

Before I know it we’re dressing, and eating, and I’m swiping a cloth against the tray of the high chair, dipping to the floor 1,000 times and back up, filling straw-cups and snack containers, setting off to playgrounds and gardens and pop-up pools. On the two days a week that Little O goes to daycare, the day flies away from me, consumed with freelance work and correspondence. I’d clip the day’s wings if I could.

 

Occasionally, I sorta-stop. For a run in the morning or a podcast on the walk to the grocery store. Three times for a yoga class squeezed between the hours of here or there. I savor the words of books (the latest, Thirteen Ways of Looking by the great Colum McCann. More on this, I hope, soon.) But rarely, a moment to reflect. To look. To take stock. 

 

I’m working on that. 

 

I’m working on coming here, to the blog, to understand where I am. To tell it as it is. To, maybe, snap a photograph, in order to see what I’ve actually seen. The days are full and rich. I am more content and at peace with my life than I’ve been in a long time. But, it’s nice to step back and see things for what they are or, maybe, more importantly, for what I wish they could be.

 

I’ve wondered why I can’t let this space go. Many times I made the decision to, simply, walk away. But then I’d think, hold on to the space. Not because of social media platforms or personal brands (neither of which I have.)  But because I miss the conversation. The record of an ordinary day. I miss being able to say, this here is a thought I once had, whether it be naive or insightful or too raw to be understood. And I miss someone saying, me too. This September, this year, I’d like to give myself permission to spend more time here. 

 

All I can say is, I’ll try. 

 

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