Be Careful What You Wish For

After months of dreaming about it, I actually have a chunk (6 weeks) of time off work. Certainly it's a gift, and the reality/luxury of that time is sinking in....but now I have no excuses not to write, and to work on a book project with no end in sight. It reminds me of a cross-country drive I did the summer I was 20, driving from Chicago to San Francisco, and how the horizon in Nebraska seemed endless, a moving target.

The truth is I don't really know how to structure a book, so I'm just writing it piece by piece, and taking it on faith (i.e. wishing and hoping) that the story will come together in a coherent and interesting way. This week I'm participating in a writers' conference at Lesley U in Cambridge, where I work. Hopefully I'll get some guidance and some creative fuel for the next steps....'cuz right now it's so much easier to pick up a book or watch awful summer TV than to work on my book.

Going Home

About two weeks ago I headed back to Cleveland for my mother's 80th birthday celebration. All in all, the weekend went well, and I was thankful that my Mom was able to enjoy the milestone in relatively good health. But I did get a taste of deja vu, when I rode with my older brother (who I hadn't seen in about 5 years), out to the cemetery where our father is buried. Somehow he made a wrong turn and we wound up taking a circuitous route before we eventually found the right exit. The highways and exits had changed in the 20+ years we'd been away, and when D asked me where he should get off the highway, I made an educated guess--which turned out to be wrong.

As my brother's frustration grew, I felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Suddenly I was 8 or 10, trying not to piss him off, even though he generally seemed pissed off by my very existence. (He'd been an only child for 5 years, and never really got over the intrusion when I showed up on the scene). Fortunately, we did get there after a 10-minute detour, and the past receded into the background.

Still, I was reminded of how uncomfortable I often felt growing up in my family of origin...and how I can still revisit those feelings on occasion.