Back from a whirlwind 6 days on the East Coast, mostly in a celebratory vein. Too, though, there was as always that tinge of bittersweet. Saw many people I have not seen in years, decades even; the sense of time passing was acute. We are none of us getting younger.
Did some writing, some reading, some editing too. It wasn’t a total vacation; I don’t think anything will be, anymore.
I am feeling the tremors tonight. For some time now I have felt this sense of life changing, though often it has been so subtle as to be unnoticed, something very soft and just past the edge of my awareness . . . but tonight I feel it. That some things are crumbling, hopefully the better to be rebuilt. I am sometimes frustrated at how long it’s taking—when, when, when will the shoe drop?—but I think ultimately I will be grateful for this pace of change, that’s giving me time to gather, finish things, think it all through.
Whatever it is.
And reading this over I see I’m not being very coherent, which probably bodes ill for trying to write tonight. But I have the novel to finish—I cracked apart that last scene I wanted to rewrite, so it’s all in pieces now—and Nano to keep plowing ahead with, and an application essay I wanted to finish by the end of the month. And everything else, so much everything else. Too many wasted nights already. Something is better than nothing. Onward.