Sometimes I think the weather does more for my writing than the music that I have on. Okay yeah I write to music most times to get me moving but when it rains or snows it inspires things other than fiction. I could write a poem about the rain and how it makes an old woman feel. I might not technically be old but can feel it in places right now. Joints reminding me that they never were the best. New aches and old but I can roll those into words that describe things that hopefully will evoke a response from a reader.
After all we all have things that make us stop, think and feel. Looking out the sliding door toward the trees in the neighbor’s yard reminds me of times long ago. Of sitting by a lake as the rain fell just beyond the little hollow of trees and rocks I sat in. Even then listening to music on my old cassette player and watching the water ripple and move. There is no lake before me but it does feel familiar in an old mystical way.
White birch woman
slender and pale
hair like rippling leaves
peaceful and slow
Okay that was bad but heck I haven’t done poetry in a while. I haven’t had the depressive urges that lead to so many of the poems I wrote. Yeah I still have blue days but mostly they are missing my little girls who grew up and don’t need me anymore. Miss them so much.
Okay back to working on Hope Everlasting. It is fun writing a story set in Old Nashua. Remembering the city as it was when I was younger, trying to put in some of the new places. The only problem is really remembering the names of the places that have been there since I was a kid. Wish I could remember the name of the little steel diner between the bank and hardware store on Main street. My nana used to take me there for lunch when I was younger than Kaylan is now. I miss those lunches. I miss my nana, I miss the old home feel.