On Friday, I went to the local cafe-bookstore, and I dedicated myself to a full day of writing. I got there around 10:45 AM and I wasn’t going home until my boyfriend was going to pick me up on his way back from a family dinner, which I knew would probably be around 7:30 PM. I was committed, and I felt great about it.
Sweet September. No matter what else is going on, what stress I’m facing or what mental health issues I might be battling, there’s something about September. Even when I don’t want summer to go, when September arrives it’s like I fall in love with it all over again.
Lately I’ve had this feverish desire to just create – to make things and to get sucked into stories. I was feeling this to some extent before I left for Ireland, but something about the beauty and peace and magic of it, paired with having some time and distance from home, brought my sense of this from focus to urgency.
Last week I made one of my oldest dreams come true with one of my best friends. I went to Ireland! I suppose it’s a bit cliche, but Ireland has always seemed to call to me. Even as a little kid, I longed for it – before I even knew what the emotion was. I dreamed about its green, its magic, its seeming connection to the stories I loved.
