In the Writers Studio, where I’ve been a student for ten years and a teacher for two, we talk a lot about connection. As in, connecting to our truest, deepest feelings about our lives.
And sometimes, as I look down on the long shadows and dead leaves scattered across the sidewalk, or as I’m lying in the darkened bedroom, the baby playing with my fingers as he nurses and drifts to sleep, I see: it’s all right here.
Why do I keep missing it?
These four sentences were originally scrawled onto a pad as I squatted just inside the entrance to the grocery store late Sunday afternoon and are linked up with Just Write at the Extraordinary Ordinary.