Down the Long Lane Helping Women Write
On Sunday, I knew it was time to let go of my sweet mare Sonia.
I had lived with her and she with me since the day she was born 28 years ago on our ranch in the high desert of California. A few years later, Charlie was born at our place in Utah.
Never enough time to write.
Throughout this last winter and early spring, I was able to write everyday, not just for an hour or two, but four to six hours each and every day. I’d hoped to maintain that pac
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n response to Maria Shriver’s question, “What gift did your mom give you?” I must answer, INTUITION and EMPATHY.
I lost my mom six years ago, but since I’ve been working on my memoir over the last four years, we’ve had daily conversations with her (no, I’m not crazy. I talk with the mom who lives in my head, along with all my other characters, real or imagined).
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My mom has been on my mind a lot lately. I lost her in 2007 from a stroke. She worked most of her life, and loved working despite the struggle of raising three kids at the same time. She kept house and cooked after coming home from work, often finishing the dishes after all of us had gone to bed. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I didn’t help her very much. I gave up offering because she said it was easier for her to do it herself. I think, now, as I reflect back, that she was trying to make my life easier than she had growing up.
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Today, I’m finally taking a break from my writing, poking my head above ground to see what’s been happening while I’ve been hiding on the farm working. I’ve missed bopping into town to visit my friends (which I will do tonight at the Spring Artscene in Rockford Illinois
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Over the holidays, as I prepared for the first of two cataract surgeries, eye drops, dark glasses, a ride to the surgery center and subsequent appointments, I missed the part about the reading restriction: only ten minutes an hour for three weeks following surgery. No email, no facebook, no twitter
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With all the non-stop human suffering around the world, it’s hard to concentrate on everyday tasks at hand. I have a sensitive nervous system that responds to tragedy by either shutting down or exploding into high anxiety, so I try to limit my exposure to the news so that it won’t rob me of all my muses for my writing and my art.
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