I’m back in Vermont for residency, staying at an adorable bed and breakfast close to campus. I’ve never stayed at a bed and breakfast before, and I feel pleased that my first time is now and here, paid for with my own dwindling savings, made possible by my own desperately underused agency and will. It’s going to be a week of rest, of writing, of thinking, of quiet, of planning, of talking, of songbirds, of sunlight and rain, and of breakfast every day that I don’t have to make.
I’m popping into say that this blog is going on hiatus for the summer. One thing I love about this space is the freedom to write as I wish, without the scrutiny or desires of advisors or critique partners. It’s been a struggle to keep up with lately, though. There have been so many things I’ve wanted to say that I haven’t known how to put into words, or haven’t had the courage to try. This space has started to feel somewhat inauthentic, and I never want my writing to be a reflection of my inauthenticity.
It was my birthday on Friday, and a friend I don’t talk to often sent me a list of very lovely birthday wishes. Among them, she hoped I would have “an omnipresent reminder that you are you and you are doing just fine in this life and you are a wonderful person.” I mention that she and I don’t talk much simply to say that I am always shocked when unlikely people have the knack for telling me what I am longing to hear. I’m going to use this hiatus to try to get to that place of omnipresence, to know in my bones that I am doing just fine, that I am doing the best I can and being as good as I can to my loved ones and to the world.
Thank you for reading and for sticking by me this past rollercoaster year. I’ll be back in a few months with stories to tell.