I was 8.
I sat tucked away behind a huge stack of hay bails, reading quietly on a summer afternoon. It was hot, and the hay trapped the humidity. Little drops of sweat rolled from my forehead, but I sat there feverishly reading my book.
I was an exceptional reader. I was the child that begged to go to the library. I was the little girl that thought reading was fun. I often had teachers shoo me away from the side of the building, because I'd sit in the shade and read during playtime. In fact, the only time I ever got in trouble in grade school was for reading under my desk during class time.
I used to rush through my tests and classwork, just so I could read until our next assignment. I loved to read. I loved words. I loved using my imagination. As I grew older that passion was neglected. I stopped reading as much, however that's when I began to write. My first stories began at age four or so. I won a poetry contest in the 4th grade. When I was 16 I began writing my first novel. I had over 100 pages handwritten. That's right. I wrote it by hand. Every word. I sobbed through half of them.
My love for words not only remains, but it grows every day. Sometimes I feel so overwhelmed by them that it makes it difficult to breathe. I have to pick up a pen and write it out ferociously across a sheet of paper, just to let out the angst.
Lately, however, the words haven't been coming.
I began today's post last night. I usually post on Sunday's and I intended to, but I realized quickly that I had nothing to say. At least anything that I did.. I couldn't verbalize. I have been making more effort lately to develope my work, but I've also been sick this past week. My body is tired and worn down. I'm exhausted. The last two weeks have been especially taxing.
What is the remedy for Los Angeles Exhaustion, you ask? Tennessee.
I'm going home. Thursday I will get on a plane and head out to Memphis. I'm so excited I can't stand it. Maybe that's part of the problem right now. I'm so excited about going home that I can't focus on what i'm doing here. I have a lot to do even while I'm home, but I can't wait to hug the twins, and watch Ethan dance. I'm looking forward to watching my mom drink twelve cups of coffee in a sitting, and hearing my sister's laugh. I've been told we sound just alike.
I'm also excited to sit outside with winter all around me. The crisp air. The sound of wind roaring instead of a car alarm. I'll admit it. I miss it.
I am hoping to be revitalized this holiday season. I think this trip back to the South is going to be exactly what I need. I'm sorry for the short post, but i'll do better next week.