Dear Reader,

The end of February is probably my favorite season of the year. For most of my life, I have suffered from seasonal depression, and the ongoing joke I have with friends is that if February were cut out of the calendar, every year would be great. Alas, we still have that sag of days that comes at the end of the long winter nights started sometime back in October to slog through. Fortunately, the mornings come earlier and the winds warmer as the days progress toward March, which does bring some light (both literally and figuratively).

The rhythm of my days is changing, too, with the decision to send students in my school district back to the buildings over the next few weeks. While I began going back into my classroom to teach virtually when the district allowed that, having the energy of students back in the classroom will definitely take some adjustment, even if only for a few months. I know I am not supposed to admit this, but I am looking forward to hugs, with masks. I know my students need all the positivity they can get, and I’m looking forward to being that bright spot for them.

I’m sure this will affect my writing–not from the standpoint of time, as I get up most mornings around 4 am to put in the words–but from the standpoint of topic. I find that when I overhear snippets of conversation among students and staff, ideas begin to flow in directions I haven’t anticipated. The words over these last 11 months have been highly focused on my journey over the last several years as a widow, my husband’s medical journey and death in 2016, becoming single, and surviving the Pandemic as a single person, but I know things are about to be shaken up–and I welcome the fresh perspectives.

One of the things I am hoping to maintain is my blog. I realize that I haven’t kept it up with the dedication I started with all those months ago in writing my pandemic poetry, a combination of creative blocks and pursuing other things. In the last week, I have realized how much I love writing daily for you, readers, to enjoy. One of the biggest joys I’ve had in writing was a writing blog I started long, long ago, back when modems beeped and we all thought Compuserve was the wave of the future. Don’t bother to look for it–it’s long gone, but the memory of the community of writers who gathered there gives me hope that I can do the same again here, this time with the addition of readers. There’s nothing to lose, right?

While my pieces in the editors’ hands are still under consideration, I did add a few pieces you might consider reading, if you haven’t already. These short pieces are chunks from my daily morning pages that don’t speak to me in a way to be expanded into a larger piece, but still have some merit in consideration: On Rock Bottom, On Uncertainty, On Uncertainty II, and On Fear. I’d love to know what you think in the comments. Oh, and a special weekly series (I hope to keep up)! for writers and journalers and people who want to be one or the other, or both: Let’s Write. This post is about finding the joy in the tactile experience of writing as the foundation for future word pursuits.

Outside the window, I hear cars splash the puddles against sidewalks and know it’s time to sneak out before the hard stuff comes down. Stay dry, stay warm, and be sure to catch the earlier sunrise tomorrow morning. You won’t regret it.

Until next week,

xoxo

Beth