SOAK IN THE QUIET
There's something soothing about the anonymity of a hotel lobby. Mostly quiet but for Muzak and an occasional patron. A corner to myself. Nothing pressing to move too quickly. When I traveled for work it grew weary but I did sometimes revel in the aloneness. It was like being a ghost. Mostly invisible.
I love that feeling of being utterly alone. It's soothing in a way. It's quiet to the point that the sound of your voice can startle you and sometimes you can't remember the last time you spoke out loud. This almost always reminds me of my grandmother, who lived alone on a peninsula jutting out into Lake Erie for 40 years give or take.
Best I can add up, this would have made her roughly my age, her second husband dead, she, taking what money she had to move to a small cottage on a bay, commuting 70 miles back and forth every weekend, then for a time, a few days a week. This level of independence likely an anomaly of the times.
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I wonder about DNA. About genetics sliding down generation to generation. My father was an only child, and though I had half siblings growing up, we never saw each other and I was my parents only child. I had a girlfriend in college who told me constantly that I had "only child syndrome" and that I essentially lived in my own little world. She was probably right in a lot of ways. I still don't want to share my food with anyone.
Being the only kid makes things quiet. My family has adopted this quietness, our house sometimes full of all four of us, but no one speaking. We watch a little TV but most of the time it's off. Stillness and no stimulation trumps. Some people feel the need to fill every second with words and noise. And some of us are superior. Only children. The quiet ones.
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My commitment to writing has been renewed, but I'm being careful to not overdo the attaboys. 4 days does not a novel make. But as I like to say to the athletes I coach. Consistency breeds success. Momentum matters.
When I was well within a long streak of writing I remember telling a friend that the more I wrote the better I wrote. The consistency. The forming of ideas. The articulating emotions. It gets better with every rep.
So somedays there's big long stories and deep thoughts.
Other days. There's a repetition and a reminder to soak in the quiet.
#hugsandhi5s
