Homework into the night

My son is doing homework, an English essay I think. He is writing about a poem, quietly tapping on his computer, glancing at some notes he made. I sit opposite him at the dining room table with my own computer open, making this entry to my long-idle web log. We dragged a lamp onto the table to light our work.

The clock says 12:30. My husband is asleep, so are Twitter and Facebook, or at least my interest in checking them. I am too tired to write any more emails. If I tried to read I would fall asleep. So somehow I turn to blogging.

I began this blog a the time of my fiftieth birthday. I was ready to begin a new phase of my life, the phase of being a writer. Now I’m in it! Walking home along the familiar sidewalk I felt grounded in the place I am in: Boston. I felt grounded in what I’m doing: becoming a writer.

Most of what I’m doing now is getting my book out, Alpha is for Anthropos. It keeps me busy, a big overwhelming process like putting on a play. But sometimes I have tastes of my new freedom. And each day I write a haiku that gets read by someone on Twitter.

When I left the Athenaeum today, I went by myself for a coffee (and fruit tart!) at the crowded cafe where my daughter used to go with her friends . Then I walked home silently reflecting on whatever I wanted. I noticed the young parents in the Boston Common with their babies and the people getting out of work. I felt my place among all of them, the dreamer and poet drifting home from the library where she writes.

 

 

This entry was posted in Boston, Teen Children, Writing. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply