I am struggling to write while I’m with family. Even just to do these blogs I have to shut out the world for moments to focus, to translate these thoughts into movements into my fingers that stomp out figures onto a keyboard that’ll make readers think and feel things.
My time with my family is precious, and it battles my time with my words and my writing and especially when I only have so many moments before we’re separated by oceans again, this doesn’t feel that important. So I don’t make it important and I push it off and I write my train of thought. It may not be a masterpiece and it won’t win me any awards.
But on the last night in Rome, we wandered streets that were embedded in my memories and wished that time would stop and rewind and fastforward all at once. And right now the last thing I want to do is write this, but here I am because it’s somehow important because this is what I can do and this is what I love to do, and it means that I have to get lost in my own thoughts for moments.
But right now the woman that is sitting in the hotel room with me is more important, and family is more important, and this day 123 of my thirtieth year is to be spent with her instead of the computer.
Tomorrow I will be back alone in my solitude as I travel up to my Tuscan home. Today, I can’t pass up that time for writing anything more than this.