“You’ll have time to write if you really want to.” That’s What a husband dares to say to his wife of 37 years at this house. Of course he’s right. But she’s keenly aware of a few facts herself in regards to finding time to write. Firstly, she has to get over herself about fog brain issues and the excuses accordingly. Who doesn’t have a hard time concentrating these days? There are many distractions. Secondly, she really does need to be more disciplined with how she uses her time, none of it being spare as it is. What exactly spare time is, she would really like to know. Finally, it will be a matter of letting something “important” slide when inspiration strikes. Things like sleep and house cleaning. Unthinkable. Maybe. She’s despairing about it lately again.
I flew to Idaho to visit my folks. Here is how I found them each morning. We’d visit over coffee until late breakfast time.
Here at home we still chase after money to pay the bills like nobody’s business. Oh yeah, we take time for supper at table and occasional company and cabin stays. But we don’t finish up breakfast by deciding whether we will tackle a project or have lunch with friends at The Gathering Place or run over to the neighbor’s estate sale, like my parents do. We can’t afford such leisurely living. Off to work and routines we must go, posthaste, daily. For now, that is. I’m thinking about this. Elv is thinking about this. Do you ever wonder how it will all turn out in the end?
I have a sister who is 15 years younger than me. We live half a continent apart. We are nonetheless sisters. Our kitchens are sisters as well. We didn’t plan for this to happen. So it’s a comfort to me because many people ask me, “The dishes must get dusty and isn’t that more work?” How does one explain that these dishes are the ones we use. Constantly. How could they get dusty? And that this less is so much more.