The End

I recently published my first edited book,  Labor of Love: A Literary Mama Staff Anthology ,  with  Small Harbor Publishing . It's an anthology of writing from  Literary Mama  staff over the past 20 years. It's a beautiful collection and I am proud of the writers and proud to share the book.  It seems a fitting moment, as I pondered sharing about the book here on the blog, to reflect on my life as a blogger, and acknowledge that it is time to officially end this blog.   I started blogging in about 2007, when my baby was learning to toddle, when I was learning how to be a mother and stepmother, when I was just starting to see my way as a writer. I needed it back then. I craved it. I had a variety of blog iterations--family, art, creativity, writing things I delved into. There's a freedom in blogging, a casualness, an easy familiarity that's lacking (for me anyway) in other kinds of writing. I loved blogging and the words came pouring out.  Over the years since then, some

a morning dream

I dream of becoming a morning person. Waking while the rest of the world is asleep, sipping scalding hot coffee in the silence of a breakfast nook, and peacefully considering life and my day while watching the sun's glorious rise. It's a great idea. 

Just like those happy Folger's commercials.

Instead I am wakened at 6:45.  Where my alarm clock radio dial is set is always a mystery to me.  Some days Bill Press comes one to send my sleep deprived brain subliminal messages about the dangers that millionaires pose to America.  Other days I get the soothing music of NPR's Morning Edition.  If I am really lucky I simply hear some pop music singer crooning about lost love.  Any of the above are fine, when I am awake (and trust me, they are ALL better than the dying bird sound that the buzzer makes).  But at 6:45 I am loathe to hear them all.  It takes about 2 minutes from the time I hear my alarm, until my five year old is pouncing into my room to greet me with his chipper, let's-tackle-the-day-together attitude.  I stumble through the morning, dropping things, scratching around for the first cuppa, searching for all the necessary gear, and battling the five year old into his school clothes and into 57 layers of snowsuit attire to drive across town to his school.  All by 8 am.

The best part of waking up may be what's in my cup, but honestly, I'd rather just stay in bed a bit longer.

My natural rhythm, if left to it's own devices, would have me up by a leisurely ten or so, and allow for a few hours of lounging coffee time, before getting on with the day at hand. Oh, I can function during the daytime with the best of them. I get plenty of things done, bathrooms cleaned, bills paid, and all the like. Heck I even have taken to going to the gym in the morning, just to get it over with for the day.

But the truth is, I am a night person.  My natural rhythm wants me to stay up late, thinking, creating, expressing.  I can think in the darkness of night.  All the distractions of the sunshine or storms of daytime are irrelevant.  I can focus.  Everything seems possible.  My emotional and mental energy is stoked, flaming, ready to burst with insight and clarity and vision!  It is in the night that I feel my creative energy taking shape and finding it's voice.  Often quite loudly.

It is unfortunate (for my creativity) that my current life does not allow for too much night time space.  Even if I have the time, my physical energy is so depleted from the day that the creative energy can only fling out a few scrappy morsels before allowing me to fall asleep on my feet.
It's all good though.  I like my dream of early mornings, happily alone with Folger's, but I am not sure I need it to actually happen. I try to be able to write and create whenever I can, whenever it comes. And in the meantime, I'll just keep the dream, a dream.


MiChelly said…
I too, really dream of being a Morning person, waking up and facing the world with a good attitude, instead of "Can't I just go back to bed?"