Cobwebs

Here and there, now and again, I write little “cobwebs” I call them.

They’re little notes scribbled on the edges of my grocery lists and lesson plans. Moments that jogged a memory worth writing about. Little sentences strung together, dominated by a similar sound and brevity. Cobwebs left over from a past life.

I used to be the girl who wrote all the time. As a child, I would dictate stories for my mom to write out for me. When I was older, I taught writing, I tutored writing. I wrote papers on writing. I studied it.  I wrote before bed and when I woke up. My eye would twitch when I had a thought and I couldn’t write it down. I lived it.

I worked. I poured so much into my thesis, and getting work published and my work as editor-in-chief. I took the opportunities that my college offered to me and threw myself into them. When it came time to choose a career, I wanted to continue my writing. I applied to grad school for creative writing and was offered an all expenses paid offer. The work I had put in had paid off.

But then I met a guy. And I decided to choose my happiness and stop running myself into the ground. I turned down my offer from a school 9 hours away and got engaged the following month. Don’t get me wrong, it was a difficult decision to make, and one that received its fair share of backlash. I got a teaching job, and we bought a house. Life continued and  I moved on, somehow without writing in my life.

I began this blog with the idea that it would get me to write more. Sure, I still journal almost daily. But the desire to sit down at the computer and write is gone from me. A few years ago, as I was looking towards graduating with a degree in writing, there were many conversations circulating about how we would continue writing. One of my classmates turned to me and said “I don’t know about you, you’ve always just written for yourself.”

And that is it. I wrote for years upon years to deal with the grief that my young life had handed me. The writing took me places and gave me the confidence that I may have never gotten. It’s less that I’ve “given up” that life, and more that I have been able to take parts of it and use it in a different way.

And who knows, even still there are a few cobwebs lurking around.

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