Memorial Day

Such a kind review, Carol. Thank you for always being such a good friend and support. I am always teetering on the edge. Always. Of so many things and Carol has always been there to reel me back in.

I have so many wonderful writing friends. I am an introvert in most cases–which isn’t good for networking or trying to sell books–and having such caring, thoughtful, understanding people in my corner has saved me over and over again.

Yesterday was memorial day. We were at Liberty Park with thousands of other people. Everyone laughing, crying, kicking soccer balls, running through splash pads, swimming, riding the ferris wheel, screaming, singing, playing tennis. There was so much energy there and I thought, The world is full of so many wonderful people. Wonderful people with all kinds of joys and sadnesses and hopes and thoughts and complications and families and difficulties and things to look forward to and things to regret and things to plan towards.

I was holding my baby and walking on the hot cement with the three others holding onto my skirt and my husband in front of me, dragging a cooler and my bag and the chairs and the extra clothes and seemingly the whole world. The six of us, in a little pack, and I thought, I am happy.

I am tired. I get depressed. I am overwhelmed. I have a messy house. I have a messy car. I eat tapioca pudding. I miss my mom. I am worried about my dad. I worry about my kids. I worry about my husband.  I don’t write enough. I can’t do all the marketing for my books because I am the worst. I have a sagging belly. I have to make dinner and do dishes every single day and I don’t like doing it, especially the dishes part. My laundry room is now the entire family’s walk in closet. I have weeds all over the place. I am scared of summer. And I’m tried.

But.

I am happy.

I think writing is such a celebration of life. Every part of it. I also think too often I get too caught up in the details to see the upward movement, the beautiful chaos that is surrounding me.

I hope I stop more.
I hope I write it down more.

I hope I laugh more. Both  at home and on the page.

I hope I’m kinder.

I hope I’m more compassionate.

I hope people don’t judge my bedroom and the peeling paint in the boys room.

I hope I don’t judge people’s bedrooms and the peeling paint in their kids rooms.

I hope I can stop all the bad things I do even though I know I won’t but I hope I keep trying.

I hope I go swimming this year, as impossible as it feels with all these kids.

and I hope I love more.

Those are my summer hopes.

 

Next week, the totally awesome radical summer challenge! You won’t want to miss it.