Another Monday

I was sick all day yesterday, so I'm surprised I'm doing as well as I am today. I woke up feeling awful, but after a cup of tea and a couple of Advil I feel a little achy, but fine overall. We went on some errands this morning; I dropped off my computer at work and said hi to some coworkers, and then went grocery shopping. It was nice to see people at work and have such positive feelings overall--both about my experience there, and my conviction that I am doing the right thing right now.

We spent Saturday visiting my mom and dad on the peninsula. Dad and his wife were taking care of their grandchildren for the weekend, and Cora had fun playing with the two older girls. They were incredibly sweet to her, and Cora loved the attention. Then we spent the evening with mom. Mom has been sorting through all our childhood toys and organizing them in little baskets throughout her house. It was great to play with toys that I used to love (all these beautiful wood blocks and ferry boats, wooden cars and rattles and noise makers), and to watch Cora happily playing at her grandma's house. It was a totally nostalgic experience to remember being a little person at my grammy's place, the same house mom is living in now, and to look out the window at the beautiful 180-degree view--Mt. Rainier, Seattle, Puget Sound, the ferry making its lazy path around the island. Mom made us an awesome dinner and we sat around together and just relaxed and ate and talked.

I've decided to submit a story to Glimmer Train. It's a great anthology and I feel goose-bumpy and excited about submitting something to it. And I have been noticing little story-beginnings starting to march into my head--nothing super structured yet, but still. It feels good.

I don't know why it is, but for some reason writing doesn't feel like this big scary thing anymore. It feels like this awesome, tangible activity that I can spend time enjoying. It doesn't need to always be a highly serious act, a thing that requires blood and bone and lost sleep. I feel interested in writing about happy things, moving away a bit from the more morose stories I used to like to write.

I just keep thinking about the importance of dreams, of sticking with what you believe in, of putting energy toward those things that are most important in your life. And on that note, I am going to finish this post with a link to one of the best songs I've ever seen in concert: Bruce Springsteen's Dream Baby Dream. I watched it at the Key Arena in 2005. I think the song lasted about 10 minutes. Everyone was standing and swaying, crying, staring down at the stage totally transfixed. The repetition felt important--like we need to be told at least a hundred times to hold on to our dreams, because they are so easily neglected or lost.