Stream of consciousness--and a good thing

Today's 100 words:

I feel out of sorts, not myself, like something isn't quite right, and I don't know if it's only the respiratory infection I've had for a couple of weeks or the ear infection I was just diagnosed with or the fact that ever since the end of February, everything in my life has been go, go, go when all I want--all I need, really--is to rest, to relax, to take some time to breathe and just be because honestly, I don't know how much longer I can go on this way at this pace: too fast, so fast.

As much as I've felt strange lately, I was able to push those feelings aside yesterday when my little boy, only five years old, ran up to me in the library, a book clutched in his hands. It was a "big kid" book meant for much older children--no pictures, chapters, lots of words--but he was so excited to check it out, so excited for me to read it to him bit by bit. We started it yesterday, and although I'm not sure he has the focus yet to really concentrate on such a story, I'm so proud of him for wanting to try, and I'll never forget the excitement on his face and the look of pride in his eyes as he clutched that book. I guess it's true that there's always a silver lining if one looks carefully enough.

Early morning

Today's 100 words:

The roar of the furnace again, but otherwise it's quiet in the house this early in the morning, still an hour before I have to awaken the kids for storytime, still an hour before my mind and all my senses need to become alert to the chatter of little ones: children who have so much to say after a night's sleep that my drowsy mind often can't keep up as they talk-trip over each other, excited to relay their dreams, their plans, their wishes for waffles with syrup for breakfast, please, and "Mommy, will you turn on the TV?"

Capturing a moment: early morning stream of consciousness

Today's 100 words:

8 a.m.: It's quiet in the house and still dark outside. My neighbor's outdoor light casts an orange glow into the room. From the kitchen I hear the gurgles the coffeemaker produces when the coffee is nearly done. I'm hopeful that it will soothe my sore throat. Now there's coughing: this time it's coming from me--unusual, to be sure, since normally it's the kids and the husband who seem to catch every cold. I'm warm, too, even though the thermostat is set very low. A fever, maybe? If there's time, I'll check. Must get everyone ready for church.

The door: a freewriting exercise

This is a 100-word freewriting exercise that I wrote last November about someone who was once very important to me. It's a stream-of-consciousness piece in which I focused on an object--in this case, the door to my house--and allowed it to drive the direction of my thoughts. I like to use this exercise as a warm-up on the days when I'm stuck and the writing just doesn't want to flow. I've always found that it provides a good jump-start for the day's work.

I am looking at the door to this house and remembering another door, one from long ago, an apartment door, and I'm thinking of the day you walked out--the last day you walked out--and how I didn't realize then that I wouldn't see you again, that you wouldn't ever buzz my apartment and ask if you could come up, and I think about how maybe it's better this way, that I didn't know that the end was really the end, that I didn't know that day that the words we said were the last words we'd ever say.