To Be Known

Dear Reader,

Word Raccoon and I spent early yesterday morning rereading a beautiful little book with passages that need reading aloud, for sure.

We took notes on our phone, as well as screenshots of particularly moving sections.

We paused in the middle of reading it to write some stanzas of a poem. It is, to date, most likely the longest poem we have written.

We paused in the middle of writing the poem to write notes for an essay.

We returned to the novel and finished it with a contented sigh. We had only “read” it with our ears before, and this one certainly merited reading with the eyes.

It was a warm blanket of a place to be, just what WR and I needed. It was the best place we’ve been in days. 

We have a couple of posts prepared, but now is not the time. They will keep. This is just a quick check-in.

And maybe, since we’re checking in, we can admit something.

Maybe, I think sometimes, I should avoid mentioning the tough stuff. Maybe I shouldn’t mention grief or adjusting to arthritis meds or that I miss people. Sometimes I think I should just stick to talking about the writing, like I’m some machine, but that feels like living without oxygen. The vulnerable places are how you dare to be known. How you offer to be known, which can feel just as vulnerable. 

It also shows (however embarrassingly at times) the temperature at which many writers run.

Anyway.

WR and I are up before God because we have a medical appointment and routine lab work early today before the fun stuff.

WR and I also took our longest walk in years yesterday (still testing the machinery), and it was delicious. 

Drema