On Thursday Juliette finished the first grade. It was a low-key affair, just an early release day. Apparently they had an assembly during which teachers awarded certificates to certain top achievers in the upper grades. That evening we all headed over to the year-end picnic, where families said goodbye for the summer--and also goodbye for good. Some friends of the girls' are moving to North Carolina, so it wasn't a completely carefree evening.
I'm not quite sure what to think about all of this, in part because it seemed so...ordinary. I get the feeling sometimes that I'm not looking hard enough, not paying close enough attention, and certainly not hugging them as often as I should. Ilsa, for example, wears size 12 shoes now. That struck me as peculiar when we bought new shoes on Wednesday. It was only a few years ago that her feet were so tiny that we had difficulty finding small enough socks.
Something's wrong with me lately, a certain melancholy that hasn't let loose. I was easier in the autumn, more focused. Maybe it's being poised between two phases that has me leaning off kilter. It's always easier when you can just commit to being one way or the other. I'm rambling and speaking in half-detail, for which I apologize, but there's nothing that can be done without sharing too much.
At least I've committed with regard to my career. I had the opportunity to take a full-time salaried position and I turned it down. I'd been having doubts about it for some time--doubts that my sale to Pocket compounded. After all, how can I make a serious run for Awesome Authorly Success if I take my eye off the ball? The money would've been nice, especially since I haven't had a steady paycheck since before Juliette was born. But I don't think now is the time. Only problem is that my melancholy has me a bit stunted in the writing department too. I'm hoping that summer is gentle and kind, and that my mojo comes blaring back in a halo of sunshine and lake breezes.
So anyway, enough rambling. I'll go bang my head against the wall and reset my inner discombobulation. Today I start a new online workshop--if it's a day ending in Y, I'm teaching a workshop!--and tomorrow I launch SONG OF SEDUCTION, my little story that could. Juliette was three and Ilsa only two when I finished its first draft--already like part of some other life.
Speaking of that other life, yesterday when we drove up to visit Jenn and the boys. Watching young friends run around is a melancholy proposition; their getting older is more obvious when it's been some time since I've seen them together. Today we're just hanging around, with the weather here by the lake enviably gorgeous. Maybe we'll go fly kites. But first I think I'll hug my brand new second grader.