I have a black-blotched indentation on my middle finger. This, of course, means I've been writing a lot today, and that is something to celebrate!
This apartment is full of ink. I have several heavy glass bottles of colorful ink. But I also have little tubes and cartridges of ink inside pens all around the house--drawers, mugs, pouches. So much potential! Also so much comfort. And so much possibility.
After our apartment building burned and Josh and Mom were briefly able to go inside, Mom brought out my glittery slip-on shoes, my makeup, and a mug of my favorite pens. Now, isn't that love and understanding?
I want ink flow to be part of my every day. Ink flows when nothing else does. Being a writer bumps into all kinds of life experiences. How will I describe this in my journal? I wish I had pen and paper to write down this conversation I'm innocently overhearing. That guy could be a character in a new story. I know my bag is full of pens, but I can't find even one!
I plan to make this indentation permanent.
Inspiring lists, sparkling reads, and quirky musings from a writer~reader~wife~mama~advocate who wants to seek, create, and savor life's sweet bits.
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