Night Writing

I like to write in the morning.

Of course, sometimes there are meetings in the morning and morning meetings can stretch out into the day, and sometimes I leave a morning meeting and have to run off to another. And sometimes it's Zoom all day. Or part of the day. Or in the early evening because, of course, with Zoom, meetings with far-flung others that once were impossible become possible if one is willing to stretch the bounds of the workday. 

So today. Whose loose theme is Thirteen for the Thirteen Seconds of Sabbath videos I've thought to make again on Thursdays, for no other reason than the clever alliteration of Thirteen and Thursday. It didn't work out today. There were other things.

I look up, and out the window the soft blue sky is beribboned with pink and lavender. This is the beauty of night writing. If I were to guess at something else I like about writing at night, it's the chance to reflect upon the day while everything still is fresh.

To observe my appreciation for the colleagues I meet with on a Thursday morning every other month, a meeting we've continued through the pandemic by Zoom. I hope we'll meet again in person soon and drink tea together and nosh on lovingly prepared snacks or snacks that have been hurriedly assembled. 

To be grateful for my son, who took the train up today to help me put together the chairs that sat in boxes in my front room for a month before I screwed up the courage to try to assemble them, only to discover that I need help. 

To smile and remember the time we shared together after the chairs, on the deck at a riverside restaurant, enjoying sunshine, soft breezes, good food and each other. 

The drive into Philadelphia to take him home, and back north to the small river town in which I live. I sat in one of my newly-assembled chairs for about ten minutes and had a cup of tea before jumping on Zoom to read what I've been writing and to listen to others read what they've been writing. There's always something a writer notices when reading her work out loud that she does not see when reading it on the page or on the screen.

The phone rings. It's my mom. We haven't talked in a couple of days and catch each other up on our happenings. Talk about the holiday weekend that's coming, when we'll see each other for a day while I'm breaking up a trip to North Carolina to connect with my daughter who's visiting from Chicago. One of the fun surprises in life. If you'd asked me a year ago, this would not be something I would have predicted. But how delightful it is nonetheless. I'm delighted also to spend Memorial Day with a larger family gathering I did not expect either. Crabs and barbecued chicken. Looks like the summer really will begin on Monday. 

A Hundred Days of Happiness is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human existence.

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012 and every year beings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.