Journeywoman

I'm distracted. The man and I are getting ready to travel to Jamaica for my mom's 93rd birthday (she's actually stopped insisting that she's turning 100). Upcoming travel always discombobulates me, no matter how agreeable the reason. Plus I'm trying to get to the end of a book project that just keeps spooling out before me, like a ribbon that gets longer the more you look.

My daughter is also home and she has friends here every day, which is lovely, but I'd rather chat with them as they cook up interesting things or sit around the kitchen counter with their laptops open, discussing what classes to take for the coming semester or their plans for the summer and beyond. They are such interesting people and I adore hearing their perspectives on, well, everything.

But my work is suffering. I'm in real danger of not meeting the deadline I set for myself to complete this project, which means it's very shortly going to back into a new project that I am starting come the first of February. I cannot serve two masters. I can only explore one story in my head at a time, so I need to finish the one I'm in.

If I'm scarce for a little while, you'll know why—though in all likelihood, I will be right here, posting and procrastinating, as I am doing now. That evocative photo is by April Valencia. That staircase leading who knows where is a good metaphor for where I find myself this morning. I also just love the colors. I take that to mean the journey may feel uncertain and a bit arduous right now, but it is not unpleasant.