Making it to the end of a school year with children feels much like trying to run a marathon with kids strapped to your back, front, and lagging behind you in a wagon while you carry all necessary school supplies. Somewhere along the line, you wonder if all this crap is worth it. And you begin to wonder why in the world everything has to be left to the end: the recitals, the awards ceremonies, the events in which everyone MUST be there.
This chaos did little to allow me the freedom to express myself. Instead, I was up late cramming for spelling tests, washing laundry for much needed said events, making dinner, planning for Summer fun, and on and on. This didn't even involve the normal life that inevitably occurs between all this.
When exactly am I supposed to find time to write? Oh, that's right. Somewhere in between the hours of never and ever. And this pulls me off the rails.
At least my runs aren't for nothing, that is, when I can get them in. My brain just fills with my world and off I go. Why have they not invented a DragonSpeak bluetooth for runners that downloads automatically to a phone? Not that I could afford it anyhow, but it's sure fun to dream.
And now, a few days after it has all finally washed over us: the end of another school year, I sit peacefully at the foot of my sleeping children and write. What bliss I feel as my hands stream across the keyboard and fill a white space with words.
Words not of pure imagination, but words to charge the spirit and warm the blood. That is the spark and the page is the kindling. Off I go to warm myself by the fire inside.
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