It's beginning to look a lot like...

I did not drop off the face of the planet between late November and now. Holidays. Birthdays. Pandemic. Take your pick. For some poets these things bring inspiration and poetry. For me it brings exhaustion and extra lbs. The magic of having 4 children for Christmas is straight up exhausting. The wonder of wrapping and buying only precedes cleaning. A home that is usually filled with family and friends felt hollow this year as we celebrated with only those of us who live in this house. And somehow between the holidays and the endless days of being at home, I have lost all sense of time. One day blends into the rest and before I know it, it has been over a month since I did any kind of writing. I've never claimed to be a disciplined writer, but recognize that guilt for not writing has never motivated me to write more. And that, once again, I have to adjust my expectations to fit the reality of working full time and raising 4 children and surviving a global pandemic. Each day my children make it to bed before dawn, is as a success. And if on some of those days, I have the luxury to write down some thoughts, then that day has been a miracle.