I don't feel like writing. I just don't have it in me. Someone important to me told me to write so I am trying my hardest to get to a place where I can.
Lately I've been reading the book Traveling Mercies; Some Thoughts on Faith by Anne Lamott. In it she talks about losing her best friend to breast cancer. I loved the way she described the grieving process.
Grief, as I read somewhere once, is a lazy Susan. One day it is heavy and underwater, and the next day it spins and stops at loud and rageful, and the next day at wounded keening, and the next day at numbness, silence.
Later she says that her lazy Susan stopped at feelings of homesickness.
I can't tell you how many times I reread those lines. They made me think, contemplate, pray. And to be honest I am writing some, but nothing I have written can be shared here. I'm not there yet.