It's not the best of reasons, but I haven't creatively written in awhile because I can't move on from my mom. My mission this year? Excavate emotion other than grief.
In his novel dedication, Simon Van Booy wrote this to his deceased wife: “If you are not here, then why are you everywhere?”
But I did write the following excerpt in a letter update to her:
Your oldest child just turned 30 yesterday,
and I feel stuck at the same age you died.
Like my writing – I navigate with a compass
reaching for redemptive arcs and swift destinations
but I can’t seem to finish anything except a paper trail
of bright ideas and broken-tipped relationships,
as if finishing is something like grieving
something like moving on
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