This morning I pulled out a few of my writing books--I have a multitude. I know, me, a multitude of books--you're shocked. Don't worry, it'll pass. The shock. The books will stay. And multiply. I dove into Judy Reeve's Writer's Book of Days which gives a daily writing prompt along with sage wisdom and advice, and putting pen to paper, this is what I wrote:
I close my eyes. I still see light. You would think it's just darkness blotted black, but there is a glimmering golden light, reflections of what I see when my eyes are open. Ghostly outlines, film negatives, light becoming dark, and dark, light.
I see red. The blood of my life pulsing through tiny veins in my eyes, crisscrossing mad maps over my lids. Red pulsing golden, glimpsing green, its negative as well, flashing verdant edges, grassy banks, mossy soft.
I see nothing. Life blurs, blocks, stops. I see memory images of faces I love smiling slyly at me, at life. I see silence. I see peace. I see rest, if just for the moment under closed lids, to sleep, to dream, to forget. Lost. Just for the moment in a dark reverie, sparked golden bright at fiery edges.
I see me.
As for reading challenges, it's all going very slowly. I still have school work to keep up with and I've been bingeing This is Us. It's great having winter break off with Michael. Although the only time I see him is when he skulks downstairs to rummage for something to eat, rumpled hair and pajamas go grunting by. Teenage-dom. My heart...
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| Double stacked overly full bookshelves...also my heart.... |
My one condolence from all of this is that I do have more than plenty on hand to read for a good long time, and after that, there is always the library and Overdrive to keep me reading for free--free is my favorite! I'm not gonna complain or whine or gripe and moan. It's life. There are never any promises or guarantees. You fall down, you get back up again. It's all good. Read on, dear friend, read on.
