Life flows gently, meandering between its banks, unsure of where it is headed, but undaunted by the obstacles it faces.
Either that, or life crashes along the shore, rearranging the grains of sand over and over, briefly falling away, only to crash again.
As much as I would like the first description to be true, I'm finding the wave metaphor more realistic lately. It has been a month, at least, since I have really had time to sit down and write anything in my work-in-progress. Something unexpected keeps coming up. And when I think I finally have it all straightened out, something new comes along.
This past week it was my son's hospitalization. But I'm hoping that this week will be the lull I need to make progress. It is frustrating to be so close to finishing, so close to moving onto that next step toward becoming an author, and suddenly stop making any progress whatsoever.
And, of course, I was supposed to write on Thursday, which is my sort-of, kind-of, regular writing night. Only, that was the only evening available to schedule an eye doctor appointment for my oldest son. Time for new glasses. But I still have Saturday. I think.
Of course, that presumes I'll forego the mowing of the lawn and the futile attempt to rid said lawn of the moles that have taken up residence. I bought some "poison peanuts", in attempt to delete them from existance. Yet, for some reason, they turned up missing.
My wife hid them. She told me so. "You can't use that stuff. It can kill small animals." Well, that's the point. Mostly, she's concerned because one of our children is deathly allergic to peanuts. So, the moles may have a reprieve for now.
Despite my busyness, I can't help but remember the advice I was given not long ago. What seems important to me, what seems to be taking away from my time, is usually a choice. I have set priorities, whether I like to think of that or not. I decided, for example, that my son's eyesight is more important than my writing (for now).
But there comes a time in life when you don't have a choice. My son's asthma, for example. When the bad times in life happen, suddenly all those things I find myself preoccupied with are no longer so important. Waves crash on the shore sometimes, and we have no choice but to go with the flow.
