Harvesting a Story

Pumpkin muffins are cooling on the counter.

A candle is burning...a hot cup of coffee in my hand.

Rain is sputtering out my window and lots of colorful leaves are falling to the ground.

I know what this means. 

Fall is saying goodbye.

And I'm melancholy working on my short story.

Trying to do what Anne Lamott teaches in "Bird by Bird," which is to develop your characters first and then let them dictate what the plot will be.  But it's hard.

I've lived with these characters for a little while.  I take them on my runs with me.  I think about what they eat, who their friends are, what makes them belly laugh, what secrets linger in their souls that they don't share with their closest confidants, who they want to be when no one's judging them, what lies in their pockets, which street they live on and who loves them.

I've got a pretty good sense of who they are as people, but it's who they are to each other that seems to be the challenge.

That, and trusting that their connection will converge a tale worth spinning and sharing with at least one other person in the world.

And this is when I want to stuff a million M&M's into my face and scream, "Writing is stupid.  It takes too much time.  No one cares.  It doesn't pay the bills.  At it's best, only a handful of folks appreciate it.  And, woe is me."

Ridiculous, I know.  It's not finding a cure for cancer.  It's not mentoring a child.  It's not shoveling a walk for an elderly neighbor.

It's writing...a short story for God sakes.

So as the leaves continue to fall, I quietly beg them, please hold on...just for a few more weeks.  Stick with me and inspire me.  Help me to see these people come to life and to know what and who they are to the world...much the same as I'm trying to figure out my own place in the grand scheme.

And let me be patient with the unknown and the unseeable and trust in Nietzche:

“One must still have chaos in oneself to be able to give birth to a dancing star.”


Here's to harvesting a story.

The Perfect Fall Day...Kinda

There's really nothing better than waking up knowing that you have nothing you have to do on a Saturday.

I decided to sleep in and postpone my long run until tomorrow.

My husband offered to take our oldest to get his haircut and watch his flag football game, so that I could have some fun one-on-one time with the girls.

We made an instant beeline for the park.  Claire brought her American girl doll.  Kate grabbed her scooter.  I packed the granola bars and water bottles and before we knew it, we were on our way.

And it was glorious.

The leaves were falling in all of their yellows, oranges, reds and greens from the trees.  The girls were singing "A, B, C's." The breeze was blowing.  And every fiber of my being felt rejuvenated.  I love autumn.

Immediately, the girls ran for the slides.

And then the swings...

And then the exercise thing-a-muh-jigs...

And while we were being silly and having fun, there was another boy goofing around as well.  All was on the up and up, until his dad said to him, "Are you being a little flirt with those cutie pie girls? I don't blame you, buddy."  WTF....are you kidding me right now?  Put off, I turned the other direction, until the little boy threw sand at Kate and she whipped around and said, "Knock it off or I'll cut you!!"  WHAT?? Did my daughter just say that?  And then she turned back and said, "I'm just kidding."  The dad turned with his son and headed toward another part of the playground.  Sweet Jesus.

Back to the swings we go...I've got both girls going as high as they can with their tippie toes reaching for the tree tops when Kate shouts out, "Wow!  That makes my vagina tingle."  Holy Mary Mother of God.  To which Claire replies, "Mine too!  Vagina tickles...Vagina tickles."  And now, they're saying it in unison and I am mortified.  Why did I insist that the children learn the anatomically correct names of their body parts?  We should have just called it a Daisy.

As I convince them to leave the park and head for a nice long stroll through the golf course, we make a pit stop at the bleachers.

The girls climb up and down the stairs squealing and singing swishing water in their mouths and then spitting it into the dirt.  And then yes, they stumble upon a condom wrapper.  Thankfully, there was no actual condom inside or around the premises. Kill me now.

Deciding that we might just do better to start making the trek home, we decide to go on a treasure hunt for leaves, acorns, pine cones, and twigs to make a collage at home.

On my favorite bridge, the mail lady graciously agrees to snap a picture of us to remind me that it's always an adventure being a mama.

Happy Fall Day...Kinda.