It's past six in the evening and I'm sipping coffee and losing myself in thoughts when I should be losing myself in words. The novel I've spent over ten years on is safely shelved, with plans to fix all the things I need to fix when I'm the writer I need to be, but for now I have new words and new projects and a plate so full I'm wondering if I can carry it at all. But here I am, in the space I carved out for myself, remembering that I do in fact have a blog and trying make a mark on it.
There will be a post with updates on Christmas and babies and residency and all things writing. There will be more pictures than I should reasonably put on a page. There will be thoughts at feelings that I've been burying for months that might come forth. But tonight I just need to tell you that it is good, that life is good despite the way it hurts, and listening to the sound of my firstborn breathe while my second born moves in the space beneath my heart means that the world still turns, and it's still beautiful.
That's all for now. I promised that I'd blog for five whole minutes and it's been six. If you've taken the time to read this, thank you. It means more to me than you know.