Month: October 2014

feelings

eureka

abby mumford

the day started as all weekdays do: hitting the snooze button one too many times and then, shower. hot water cascaded down and the thoughts piled higher than the steam. i pondered how many pastries to buy for brunch the next day and which open houses i should go to and how will i get there and should i drive or take public transportation to try and simulate my work commute and is my library book still on hold and should i go sunday or monday and oh wait, monday’s a holiday so they’re closed and that’ll be a good day to do homework and i hope the weather’s nice, but not too nice because i have to do laundry and then i blinked.

it’s friday.

not this upcoming weekend.

with an emotional crash, i was brought back to reality. i have to go to work. today. now. but, woah, that really felt like it was saturday and i was planning my weekend errands and holy cow, i just came back from the future. i invented time travel!

this is going to be a good day.

feelings

heavy

abby mumford

i said,” well, it never hurts to ask or to buy a lottery ticket.” he said, “i’ve got one right here on my desk. if i win, i’ll buy you a condo.” i said, “pinky swear.”

what do you do what you’re so full of wishing and wanting and hopes and dreams and goals that you’re anchored to the floor? how do you transition from thinking to doing? i can feel the clock ticking, each vibration signaling another lost moment, another second where my inactivity wins and my passions remain on hold.

fear. it is the time of year for that.

i downsized my usual starbucks drink from a grande to a tall. a small but necessary change in my battle to make healthier choices. the fight wages because i’m unable to work out like i used to (dang foot) which means the only option left is a diet overhaul. i’m beginning to listen to my body and it’s telling me something i’m putting in it is wrong. it’s causing its own war and as the battlefield and the soldiers, i’m left feeling sick and tired. i’m exhausted. i need to do my best sherlock holmes impression to figure out what the culprit is.

like the trees outside, i’m ready to fling my leaves and bare my soul. be gentle with me.

feelings

tuesday

abby mumford

it’s tuesday, but at noon, i’d only had two sips of my coffee and by three, i finally made it upstairs to grab my lunch. it might as well have been a monday.

sister E texted: “how have we not spoken since september?” i cringed at the day job work and school work and life work piled around me. it’s no excuse, but it is the reason. one of her favorite authors was speaking at my favorite local bookstore and books are our love language and i wanted nothing more than to go and take notes for her, but instead, i had to go and take notes at class. we settled for brief bursts of textual updates.

i called my grandmother after class, just like i do every tuesday. it was the first time i was still. my mind focused on bringing cheer to the call because that’s all she asks of me. that and to come out to CO for a visit. her voice crackles. i’m not sure if it’s the connection or her 93 years. she blames the “blasted phone.” every time.

“can you see the moon?” maga says. “it’s a great, big, full one tonight.”

i’ll sleep well tonight knowing we’re all tucked in under it.

feelings

christmas eggs

abby mumford

left in the wake of AC’s departure, someone had to step to the stove. i’d been entrusted with the christmas eggs recipe, so i was the logical choice. after whisking and stiring and steaming and worrying and checking, the end product was not far off. after plating the eggs for my fellow writing retreaters, i sat down to a text message from her:

“don’t forget the special ingredient: love.”

i quickly texted back, “how about fear?”

i was only half kidding. AC is a killer in the kitchen and a giant when it comes to writing and is it any surprise she’s one of my main role models? but with her presence no longer here at #rockportwriting, i only had myself to rely on. i was in charge of seasoning my story and stirring the plot of the christmas eggs. there was no room for fear. only action.

and then this morning, we were faced with a lot of leftovers and only a half planned morning meal. the ingredients for christmas eggs were still in abundance, so i volunteered to whip up another batch. this time, i was in control. i gripped the spatula and added patience and love to taste.