You feel that you finally got it, a good rhythm to your work day. You gave yourself permission to write about your process without getting technical and precious about your writing. The ideas just keep bubbling up and your book is within the realm of reality. You feel like you are in a kayak running the river downstream.
Then there is a tricky part in the river. You find yourself scrambling with navigating stronger currents,big rocks, tight passages. You get tossed around. It's the day your older child needs to get a ride to an extra lacrosse practice right after you buy the poster board for a final project while the younger child has a dentist emergency and needs a ride to the evening school event that same day. All while you need to pick up the dogs at doggy daycare because your husband, who normally picks them up, has plans every night for the next ten days after not having had plans the last 5 years. By the time you get home you are so fried and your brain is so dull from all the driving around that you can barely get pasta aglio olio on the dinner table and don't even remember your password to your blog site.
"Oh well" you say, what is one day without writing. All these great ideas will be there, ready to bubble out of your head and into the blog, the next day.
Then there is the next day and the next day and the next. Yet another strong current in the river to navigate. Yet another day of family demands that at the same time are so precious since your older child is about to graduate and push off to college and your already very independent younger child suddenly isn't so young anymore.
You feel like you got pulled out of your nimble kayak and are now wrestling with the currents of the river, skin to water, skin to stone. The water is nice and warm so after a while it doesn't even seem like wrestling any more. At times you even forget you were paddling in your kayak of writing and blogging and creating. The satisfaction of supporting your children who almost don't seem to be children any more washes over you like the warm water of the river. You relax into the water and notice that you float lightly and smoothly down the river of the last weeks of school and first days of summer.
What floats along with you are the nagging voices in your head that tell you that your time to create and make a difference in the world is running out, that you should really be writing every day instead of driving and thinking and mothering and singing.
You have to dig a little deeper in your creative self to find these fabulous ideas you had a week ago while driving between exit 12 and 14. You have to think a little harder why you thought in the first place that creating and blogging and teaching and writing was your path. Your path during this time. "Whose time is this" you ask your self.
Then you see your younger daughter walking off with her friends to celebrate the end of middle school, just after she met with her high school teacher and advocated beautifully for herself. After that you join your older daughter at her college orientation and witness how she in the blink of an eye has signed up for all her first semester classes, got her meal card, her student ID and is making meaningful connections on the way.
After that you go home and take a long long nap. A nap for every day you didn't take one since your children were born. 90 minutes later you wake up, make yourself a cup of tea and open the computer.
The computer still remembers your password to your blog site and you remember what you wanted to write about and, more importantly, why you wanted to share your thoughts, ideas and the whole messy process called creativity, in the first place.
You now realize that sometimes life asks us to get out of the kayak, paddle with our hands and feet or just relax into the buoyancy of the water. As long as we can remember to breath through all of that, the paddling, the rolling out of the kayak and splashing in the river, we will be able to find a way back into the kayak to continue our journey.
Back in the ripples of the downstream current, dry in your kayak you hear a deep raspy voice from the sideline: "Ya done good kid"