Bam. First thing. Paris shootings. We couldn’t mend it. I shut the radio off and wrapped L’s neck in an orange scarf. Five degrees outside. The little one was late to nap. I thought he might skip it all together. Even then, he slept an hour, maybe. I outlined a chapter and wrote a few lines. Not much to check off. Egg in a nest and milk for lunch. I cleaned him off and he went off to work in his kitchen, showing me pots of soup and tea (my nearest interpretation) in the works. I made two test batches of pasta from scratch, one plain and one with kale, no spinach in the house so it would have to do. Despite the cold and overall state of the world, the light outside shone soft against the tree, like a cradled bird egg, robin blue tucked behind the sun.
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.