I haven't written in this space for almost a month. That was not intentional, but looking back I think it was a bit inevitable. Sickness, out-of-town company, the Christmas season, and this past weekend more sickness ... I guess I needed a time of rest. (More in my head than any place else ... anyone else get "blog guilt" when they aren't posting like they "should" be? Just me and my writerly paranoia?)
Today Keith starts a new job. The commute is further than his last and he had to leave the house at 7am. And so right now I have the house to myself. Everyone is still sleeping; the lights are glowing on the Christmas tree; the light outside my window has that fresh, still quality that only morning light can have. (Well, it looks still from the window. I don't think it actually is outside. Brrr.)
Maybe this will be my new writing time.
This past year has been hard on many different levels. There has been so much goodness in it, but it has been hard. A year of surviving. I've learned a lot in and through survival mode (and the periods of something easier that were sprinkled throughout it), but I'm ready for something more. I want this to be a year of growth. Of fruitfulness.
I'm not exactly sure what that looks like, yet. One thing I've learned in 2014 is that when you aim for "growth" or "holiness" or "virtue" or even something a bit more specific like "patience" as an abstract goal, with only your own willpower and vague ideas of what that means to move you forward, you're not going to get very far before falling flat on your face (and then despairing that growth is ever possible because you're just a horrible human being and whyyyyy ... or is that another "just me" thing? ;) ).
Tomorrow is Epiphany. I think this evening I will make a cake--not a King Cake/Galette des Rois, but a sacher torte, because that's what I want to try my hand at. :) Tomorrow we will have a friend over for dinner for cake and mulled wine and (possibly, if I get ambitious) carnitas. Christmas has been beautiful, but I am definitely ready to move into ordinary time. To reestablish a daily rhythm.
And maybe early writing mornings will be a part of that rhythm.