pins to come back to
For all the reasons that I ever commit to write, I’m writing again this November as part of NaBloPoMo, National Blog Posting Month. At this time two years ago, I was in the airport, on my way to California for my grandma’s birthday, determined to get back in the writing saddle. I’m forever falling out.
Now I’m in one of the strangest seasons of my life—one so unfamiliar I hardly know how to articulate it to myself. And I’m hoping, as always, that writing will ground me. That I’ll be able to put into words some of these nameless impressions. That I’ll be able to pin to my butterfly board a record of the swoops and sways of this little girl in my belly, so when she asks, three decades from now, perhaps carrying her own child, what it was like, I will have set it down in words and in my memory and can tell her how odd and alien and sweet and improbable it all is.
Be back tomorrow.
(This post is one in a November series for NaBloPoMo, National Blog Posting Month. You can find the rest here!)