I want to be a writer. To put down words that capture the essence of something so difficult to put your hands around. To make the intangible, tangible through black and white and little letters and fonts. And I have so little time to do it. To write. Because I have so little time to think. I have noise from 6:00 a.m. until 10:00 p.m. every night. From 2-years old to 11, the ages of my four children don’t offer much of a quiet time. And my brain needs quiet to write.
But tonight I was inspired by a mom who hid in her bathroom and wrote a post for her new blog and it was simply beautiful. And her confession that she was hiding in the bathroom when she wrote those words, and that it was swirling inside her to put it all down, felt so familiar. And because it felt familiar it was inspiring. I too can hide in my bathroom and have those moments where it is something more than me. That there is black to be typed out on white to let out the swirl of color that is inside.
So like my new blogger friend (as of half an hour ago) I will keep writing and I will hit publish when it’s not still not yet perfect. Because the kids will be banging on the bathroom door and dinner will need to be thought of and, well, there’s always laundry isn’t there?
A post you will only find if you come looking for it. I am hitting publish and will continue to. No matter how brief and quick the writing. Because I want to be a writer.