I had the house to myself for several hours in the morning. Around ten, the power went out which meant no excuses not to write by hand. Two pages in, my wrists tired quickly. I began to lament the good old days when ink on the page meant the first draft. When we gave each other mixed tapes made from our boom boxes. He laughed at me whenever I became nostalgic. I meant every word.
I’m giving this yearlong project a spin. Undoubtedly, I will fall and pick up again. Knowing this makes it easier. Still, I plan to show up to record a short photo and story of my day. You’re welcome to join me. I’d love it really. We can give each other high fives and geek out with a hashtag (#ayearofus), not because everyone is doing it, but because we’re doing it, together. Showing up every damn day to make this creative habit real.