I enjoy the ordinariness of getting my hair cut and picking up a few items at the grocery store. These things that I usually don’t look forward to anchor me now back home. It is good to get away, but it is even better to shrug my shoulders back into the comfortable old coat that is my regular life.
There are must-do things that need attention; I parse my time among them. I feel myself pulled In conflicting directions, and my weekly calendar is already too full. I have far less tolerance for busyness than I once did, and I bristle against demands.
Soon, I will go downstairs to my woman cave and close the door. I will whisper prayers and read texts. I will put on soft music and sit down at my writing desk. I will open my notebook and scribble more of the things that spill out there when I allow them to. I will think about crafting some of them into a body of work.
And, in good time, routine will be reestablished, and the seasons will turn, and all will be well.