cancer gives--- it takes

sheds new perspective on --- life

Futile yet designed

There is so much more I could write but what I love about poetry, specifically using this rule of writing haiku, is that I do not have to. There is enough to reflect on without the pressure of more words. It’s not even allowed. Boundaries provide | so much freedom you see | the joy of writing

*If you want to dig a little deeper on proper form of a haiku here you go. For me I just needed a little structure without too many rules otherwise it may have smothered the joy of writing at that moment.

Emptying the dishwasher I come up with an idea to write. Many writers that I am learning from carry around something to write down ideas. My computer is open on the table so I run over and start typing- My writing mind’s cycle begins--- maybe I should write a book. That will take a long time. I don’t have time to write a book. It’s better to just write the article opportunity I currently have at hand. Yes that will be best. Okay tonight Jon and I will sit down outside and talk about the op

Mommy do you like carpet on stairs? Look at this cute doll. Shes so cute. Listen to your sister your sisters older, Listen to your ....Emma runs upstairs.

I cant remember where I was going with that. I had a whole

Mommy I am so excited for the beach house.

I need to set a time to just write. Maybe I can

Mommy, remember when this baby (insert a few rapid fire statements and questions from Emma) and then my impatient (what?) follows

This is why I cannot write a book. Its not fair to them. This isnt what

What are we having for dinner? Jack runs back upstairs.

“Daaadddy” Elle starts downstairs to find Daddy already gone and headed to Chipotle

It is quiet now. What was I writing? No clue and now the cycle of sorting out options for what I will start to write first will continue. But this time is different. I got something down and that counts for something.

We are all figuring out what this rhythm will look like, but I know we can figure it out together. I want my kids to appreciate and be interested in my writing not resent it or me for it.

As I currently write my 9 year old is reading and editing over my shoulder. :)

Today I turn 37. I am sitting in a Starbucks with my free drink- an ice cold Mango Strawberry Lemonade Refresher with half the syrup. A Joan Didion book, my green writing journal, Airpods, white Owala, and laptop on my small wooden table. A quiet man on my right side, and a sweet table of men, possibly old friends, in their 70s with kind smiles- such warm company on my left. I hear the faint mumblings of orders and conversations with a constant hum of unfamiliar music in the distance. It’s a good day.

In my 36th year, I watched friends slog through deep sorrow, I watched my resilient Nana’s health decline rapidly, and I lost my beloved father (throat clinches). I also solidified a regular workout routine and established a daily scripture reading rhythm. I cried a ton and matured half as much.

When Dad was alive I created with wood- using tools he bought and knowledge he shared. A friend and I created a little side hustle. It was a beautiful season of cultivating and learning.

A few months before Dad’s cancer became relentless I started writing. Instead of wood, I am now driven to create with words. It’s easier and harder. Easier in that I can fit it in a little better with our daily rhythms but harder in that it takes so much time, discernment, and confidence. In 36, I had a small amount of each.

I can’t be sure what 37 will bring. I can’t be sure where writing will take me or when the desire will end. I feel unsure there is space for me here. And I question that the world needs another writer. I know that it seems to me the adults my age need no more information.

I want to write, but I am still working on the why. I think it’s out of necessity right now. Ages ago I wrote to inform and confess. Maybe now I will write to relate and encourage. I have book ideas, poetry, and really a constant flow of ideas that at times feels like a sweet, gentle burden that I must forsake regularly.

Anyways I’m here. And it feels good. Now I must get back to those crazy kids and kind husband I mentioned in my bio. We have 37 years to celebrate. It’s a good day.