When You Want to Write and Have Nothing to Write About

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You recall the day that’s just gone by, hoping to stumble upon that one important moment that might have snuck by without enough attention paid to it earlier.

Only sometimes, no such encounter comes to mind.

So you do the next best thing, which is to take a short walk through the day’s occurrences and in a way, to reflect upon the accomplishments of the day.

That’s what I tried to do, only to end up tallying my victories versus where I have failed.

Today, I spoke with passion and considered with reason. I held my annoyance under (enough) check (or did I?) and I listened carefully, replacing judgement with compassion. I heard my friend’s pain when she confessed about losing sleep over someone’s unkindness.

Today, I made a conscious decision to exclude a person from a community whom I felt she did not belong to. I did the right thing from all aspects that I had weighed, but does doing the right thing really matter… and to whom?

Today, I took the time to marvel at my husband’s patience and his ever-ready support given quietly and with no reserve in place for himself.

That was after I lost my patience with him and tried to cold-shoulder him away from me.

Today, I loved my children like I do everyday — with a primitive protectiveness that too often clouds my intention to nurture them towards independence.

But did I delight in them today? Or was I just distracted with planning for our vacation and consumed checking out lodging options that I left them to themselves and failed to respond adequately when they were calling for my attention?

This evening, I read a really poignant piece “We Don’t Always End Up with the Loves of Our Lives (and That’s Okay)” and embraced a certain familiar ache in my heart even as I breathed my acceptance that truly, “that’s okay”.

An hour after I shared that post with my young friend, I marvelled at how she knew all along that life wouldn’t shortchange her even as she continues to struggle with love and possible loss, and wondered if I ever truly had that recognition at all at her age.

Tonight, I almost know with certainty that it is likely I will never again experience those dizzying feels of romantic love when I had freely offered every piece of my heart and fearlessly desired to brave all the storms that could possibly come.

Now, I lie beside my husband and know that life is more than “okay” even after loss and heartbreak because I’ve found my happiness and that sometimes, the yearning for old loves really is a longing for the innocence that we’ve lost along the way.

So I hold my victories today — the kindness I’ve shown and the presence I’ve given — and I measure them against where I’ve failed — my inattention and impatience with those I hold dearest to my heart… and I think, maybe that’s something to write about: how we take almost equal chances everyday with what’s given to us and how often we neglect just how easy it is to tip the balance to do better with each segment of the day that’s offered to us.

I did.


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