Why I Write
There are lots of reasons but one of them is this:
I wish I could remember every moment of the day I got married, or the day that Matt was born, or Sara, or even the day the Massey kids helped me build my first treehouse. If I was writing back then I might remember more than the pimple that popped up on my chin, or almost tripping on my dress, or my bare feet in the flood. I might recall more than the weight of my new son on my chest, or the swooshing rush that was my daughter in her hurry to enter the world. Maybe I could bring back more than the solid thunk of a hammer on a nail.
Yesterday was one of those days to remember.
And while I can't really talk about it here, there are things I want to put down before they're lost. Here are a few of them:
My cellphone rang and when I glanced at the number, I didn't recognize it. My first thought was, 'Did I forget to pay a bill?' The voice on the other end was unfamiliar to me but her, "Hi, Darcy!" sounded a lot cheerier than any bill collector I'd ever encountered. Then she asked if I'd looked at my e-mail and all my breath left me.
My fingers fumbled on the keys but I got the program open. And I read. And I still couldn't breathe. Or say much of anything. I had an overwhelming desire to spin around in my office chair like a five-year-old. I excused myself for a second and I may even have told her, 'I'm going to spin around in my chair like a five-year-old now.' Whether I told her that or not, I did spin. Like a five-year-old.
I am still spinning.
I wish I could remember every moment of the day I got married, or the day that Matt was born, or Sara, or even the day the Massey kids helped me build my first treehouse. If I was writing back then I might remember more than the pimple that popped up on my chin, or almost tripping on my dress, or my bare feet in the flood. I might recall more than the weight of my new son on my chest, or the swooshing rush that was my daughter in her hurry to enter the world. Maybe I could bring back more than the solid thunk of a hammer on a nail.
Yesterday was one of those days to remember.
And while I can't really talk about it here, there are things I want to put down before they're lost. Here are a few of them:
My cellphone rang and when I glanced at the number, I didn't recognize it. My first thought was, 'Did I forget to pay a bill?' The voice on the other end was unfamiliar to me but her, "Hi, Darcy!" sounded a lot cheerier than any bill collector I'd ever encountered. Then she asked if I'd looked at my e-mail and all my breath left me.
My fingers fumbled on the keys but I got the program open. And I read. And I still couldn't breathe. Or say much of anything. I had an overwhelming desire to spin around in my office chair like a five-year-old. I excused myself for a second and I may even have told her, 'I'm going to spin around in my chair like a five-year-old now.' Whether I told her that or not, I did spin. Like a five-year-old.
I am still spinning.