Blissful Beginnings, Unfinished Endings

Rainy days are the best. The sounds of the raindrops are like a melodious army charging against the roof, drumming my senses to attention. The rain comforts me. It can even come raging with winds or crashing thunder and lightning; I’ll take it all. Oh, but only if I don’t have to be out in it. I need to be indoors, curled up in the security of my old sweater with a good book, a hot cup of coffee, and without any obligation to be anywhere else for the duration. Today is just one of those blissful occasions, except I think I’ll save the reading for later. Lately, it is the need and want to write that I am trying to fill.

I have the whole writer’s vibe going too: the rainy day, my over-sized, knitted gray sweater with its bleach-splattered sleeve, a half-finished cup of coffee, piles of notebooks and folders stacked on the desk and floor beside me. The mood is a perfect blend of melancholy and magic; and as I attempt to describe this scene, it has dawned on me that this is one of those rare moments in life I am lucky enough to have realized and so, can fully appreciate its significance in real-time. I am doing exactly what I want to be doing. For however long I have this freedom, it is one to be tended to and not taken for granted.

Ahh, but what to do with it…

I’ve made a life of incomplete stories, literally and figuratively, always with this underlying current of longing to connect everything, finally… some day. I’m so used to writing only fragments of anything at a time, collecting volumes of unfinished thoughts, always tucking them away, promising to come back to each and every one that proverbial someday. There is nothing I don’t put off for as long as possible, wanting only to complete anything if and when it can be done perfectly, when I feel focused and creative and ready. Of course, it takes all but a miracle to have these things all align at once.


Case in point: This post, which I started Sunday morning around 9 a.m, and it is now after 10 p.m, Monday night. I got as far as the previous paragraph before taking a “break” to do some chores around the house to give myself time to think about what else I wanted to say. A day and a half have passed, and I’m still as unsure as ever. This is my dilemma with writing in general; my dilemma with life in general. I do hope this blog isn’t going to be another place for me to collect unfinished work.


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