I’ve been thinking a lot lately about writing. If I could be a writer, what kind of writer would I be?
Some people, when they write, they like to spark up controversy, or conversation, or blog comments, or deep, deep thought.
But if I were a writer, I would want to invoke silence.
Gasping, smiling, and then silence.
But enough about that. It looks as though I will be moving again soon. I was relieved that my dad told my grandpa before I could. I think if I waited until I could say something, I would already be gone.
And so I’ve donated some clothes and I’ve got some boxes in the trunk of my car, as well as a box I’ve started filling in my bedroom. I think it’s making my kitty antsy, because she’ll pace around the box and then look at me, then back at the box again. I think she’s wondering where she fits in all of this. That, or she’s ready for a nap. I know I am.
Do you ever get mentally tired? Like, you just disconnect from those around you. You stop studying or you ignore peoples’ texts or you lay on the bed for no reason at all in the afternoon just to consider. Consider what? Well, nothing in particular. Just consider.
I was telling a co-worker the other day that I had an image in my mind of a waiting room at a doctor’s office. And in that waiting room people are shuffling in and out all the time, but imagine, if you were always there. You were sitting there reading InStyle magazines from 2012 and just watching the people filter in and out. Sometimes there’d be screaming babies with jaundice and sometimes there’d be sweet elderly folks just waiting to talk your ear off. But no matter what, you were always in that room.
Then imagine you were invited on a train. A great, big, beautiful train from like, the movie Anastasia or the third Anne of Green Gables movie. And you had no idea where the train was taking you, and yeah you were still sort of in a waiting room, however
this time you were moving.