Writing Life


This evening as I was driving home from the three-thousandth errand, I took my eyes off the road to look at the sky. I noticed in the grey blanket of cloud an open zipper of bright yellow. Like someone had sewn an opening in the sky, closed it with a zipper than opened the zipper and let the colours inside spill out. Then the sun chose a hue of pink so vibrant it built itself into a tower of ‘notice me’ so strong it shot above and below the horizon like it was trying to connect to itself to anything in its stream of light.

I was moved to tears by the beauty the sky showed me.

Then I thought about the writers in the erotica writing workshop I’d led earlier in the day…at their courage and open-minds. At their abilities to dive so deeply into a world of words and writing that is out of their comfort zones. I thought about how truly extraordinary human beings are, especially when gathered together to be creative or celebrate art.

I was moved to tears by all the art in the world. As Tonic serenaded me on the radio with ‘If You Could Only See‘, I let the song bowl me over, and I blubberingly sang along…because I know the blue eyes they’re singing about. I know how blue his eyes can be when he says he loves me. (The lyric is ‘her’ eyes, but I changed them in my mind!)

I thought about how much one can accomplish simply by loving. By loving a thing or a person or an action. By accepting love.

I remembered that a full moon is nearly sky high. (I am getting my throat ready for a good, long howl.)

Opening sentences to a story I’ve been needing to get out clamoured against my forehead.

I’m not from around here. There’s no one to tell. I look like her but my heart doesn’t feel a connection. I don’t know how to talk about it.

I sat in my car in the driveway and I swallowed gulps of airy emotions. Holding the rest in.

And it was okay.

I was moved. Moved so deeply.

2 thoughts on “Moved

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