Yesterday, a friend who is also my writing teacher called from the edge of Crystal Lake, where she sat and needed to talk to someone besides her family. It was in the 60’s and beautiful.
I mumbled about how mask-making was interfering with working on my manuscript — how it was a conflict.
“Dee Mallon?” she quipped. “In conflict?”
I laughed. “Yeah. Who would I be without my conflicts?”
I’d like to know.
Such good writing is emerging from this peculiar time. One of today’s prompts was to write about homesickness.
Here’s a little of what I wrote:
Out on the street, I would wander in a drapey tank top, necklaced, smiling, hugging every passerby, strangers and friends alike. Heads bent toward each other, the smell of skin every time like going home. …
Man, that purple! Wowzie! Beautiful prayer. And I can see you there, dark blue tank top, silver chains with turquoise…searching and finding. Write on!
And the smell ! Hyacinth are so gorgeous.
I am late to the mask-making, but I hated the recipes (ummmm, patterns) … but better late than never, right?
And thank you for putting words to my ongoing prayer of the privileged …
You could spend a bulk of time just supplying your family!
(((Dee))) all intensified by this Full Moon!
It was spooky and pretty last night, rising and shining through the branches to the East. Just listened to Old Man Crow’s song. An anthem for the times: “I gotta get out of here” … nice way to start my day.