Phew, it has been a minute. October seemed to barge in and suddenly we were knee deep in leaves and soggy grey mornings. Not warm, not cold, just eleven degrees and dreary, a swift punch to the sternum to remind us it’s all fairly grey and grim from here on out. It wasn’t a golden October, by any stretch of the imagination; more a leaden one, a silver one, a tired one. It must have used up all its brilliance last year. And then it was November. Meine Güte. November is like February, except it at least has the promise of Christmas going for it. Although February has the promise of spring, doesn’t it. As long as there is promise, I suppose.
I feel like, once semester begins, I press pause on any writing and ride out the thirteen weeks of lectures and preparation and marking, fitting them in with the ever-growing kids and their schedules, each morning looking like the opening scenes of any film ever that features working parents. Coffee, mini backpacks, breaking up arguments, packing lunchboxes, more coffee, lost car keys, looking for clean socks and hoping the winter jackets have dried since yesterday’s jumping in puddles. It’s madness.
That isn’t to say that I haven’t made any progress on my latest collection of writing. I have! A little! I’m sitting on a fourth draft, having picked it apart, cut it back, killed plenty of my darlings. It is getting there. But it is to say I have accepted the next few weeks will fly by in a haze of end-of-semesterness, Glühwein and Christmas preparations and I won’t get much else done. I plan on dedicating all my time to finishing the edits and getting it formatted and ready for printing over the Christmas break, and during the short, cold days of January. Actually, the one good thing about the short, cold days of January are how amenable they are to staying in and reading or writing.
So,I’m still here, albeit very much ready for the Christmas days of family and food. But more writing is forthcoming and I can’t wait.