College kept up a rhythm that grade school started of sweet summer freedom. It’s strange to see that rhythm go, and easy to be flooded with nostalgia in the face of an uncertain future.
I took a pause to catch my breath, only to have something reaffirmed. I have to write. The almost month-long break from posting was meant for me to sit and decide some things about my future, about where I want to go, and what I want to do, because it’s too easy to set yourself on autopilot and never think again. In the time and space I paused to think (and muddle sluggishly forward), I put pen to paper instead of fingers to keys and the poems poured out in lieu of essays. So I’m standing here with a fistful of poems and nowhere really to publish them, nowhere really to perform them, wondering where these words should be. None of them rhyme, free verser that I am.
And my wondering led me back to the place I started when I was little, after I stopped wanting to be a paleontologist. I want to be a writer. I don’t just want to be one… I am one. Because I couldn’t stopper the words if I tried.
And with the summer hiatus over, I will go back to my regularly unscheduled posting.