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Confessions: I Often Disappear



The hours of my days and the days of my life belong to a tiny individual with a big presence. Some days are tougher than others. There is no me, only her. I disappear. On other days I receive rejection letters from literary agents as well. During those tough ones it feels like even the memory of me too will fade and no one will remember that I'd ever lived. On those days I have to actively seek out the happy. 

 So here goes.

My happy is in the sound of notes resonating from the strings of my husband's guitar. It's in the sweet scent of fresh blooms and in the taste of a slice of cake for breakfast. It's in the blue of the ozone, the fragile guardian of our planet. It's in the golden glare of the setting sun over the mountain. It's in a cool breeze carrying the smell of the sea through my open window. It's the latest New Girl episode. It's Bad Lipreading. The adoration for me in my husband's eyes. My daughter's giggle and the way her tiny hand rests on me when we're sleeping. Happiness is being home to raise her, no matter how hard it is and no matter how much I feel like I don't matter, I do. I matter to her. Even if literary agents reject my novels a thousand times, it doesn't matter. I'll try again tomorrow, to be a better writer and a better mom.

I will try again tomorrow.

Here's a free short story competition for anyone who's interested, SA Writers College 2017 Annual Short Story Award. I will be writing my entry this weekend, if all goes well. 

Happy Thursday.


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