Grace Notes

Since I was a little kid I imagined myself living the life of a writer. There I am, writing under the eaves of a finished attic overlooking a grove of trees with an incline down to a lovely lake.  I  watch the seasons change and draw inspiration from the fresh air and singing birds and all the lovely colors of spring, summer, autumn and winter…

The reality is I live in a suburb of Dallas— flat land, the only season we have with any regularity is summer—the hot bleaching burning kind of summer—complete with lots of allergens and heat that keeps me indoors with windows closed much more than is reasonable.

Instead of having a writing cozy in an attic overlooking a lake and a big fruitful tree, I have removed the dining room furniture and replaced it with a desk—- in the front room of our house— (the kitchen is big enough serve our dining needs) and instead of having a continual bounty of ideas to inspire my writing I have learned the lesson of any profession:  writing is hard work.  No little bird chirping inspiration on my window sill, no lovely breeze to move my hand to wax poetic on the beauties of nature while making astute observations on the human condition.

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April fools who?  Is there a special kind of fool found in April? Are we celebrating fools, that is jesters, village idiots, comedians and fools in the more pejorative sense? Or are we taking one day a year to revel in fooling our friends and loved ones?    Ah, the questions.   What are we without questions?   That is the question (sorry Billy).

I’ve been playing Grandma two hundred miles away from home a few days each month so Katie can take exams.  A couple of days ago, with a sore back from catching a lively little boy and gnawing sense that I need to get some work done, my nearly one year old grandson served to remind me that I had put aside pursuing a ‘serious’ writing career for all the years I was raising children.  Since there is a nine year age difference between child number one and child number four that is a lot of years.  I spent 15 years of my adulthood watching Sesame Street until John went off to first grade.  Jude’s cartoon of choice these days is Sponge Bob Square Pants.  The circle of life.

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