I know it’s been awhile. Nearly three weeks. I had no idea it had been that long. Wait. That sounds bad. I don’t mean it that way. It’s not that I haven’t thought about you in these three weeks. It’s just, well, life gets in the way sometimes, you know? But, I promise you, this is not a “Dear Journal Letter”. Yes, I know I started it, “Dear Journal”. That is your name. But, I am not leaving you.
As I sit in my new chair in the living room, by the open window, the breeze blowing in and the sound of the cicadas filling the air, sun setting brilliantly on the western horizon…did I tell you I bought a new chair? No, of course not, I haven’t written to you in three weeks. I’m sorry. I’ve done a lot of things in those three weeks, and I promise someday to tell you all about them.
I get up really early nowadays for work. Sometimes the moon is still out and the crickets are chirping when I get in my car. I know, that doesn’t sound like me. I love my sleep, but I love leaving work an hour earlier in the afternoon more. I saw this sunrise on my way to work Monday morning. As I said at the time, “Nice try Monday morning, but even setting the sky on fire isn’t going to make me love you.” By the end of the evening, I’m pretty tired. I know that’s no excuse for not writing.
I’ve been preparing my lunch and snacks for the entire work week by freezing and packaging up sandwiches and whatnot on the weekend. That takes time on days when I would normally be writing, but it saves me time on weeknights when I’m exhausted. You understand, don’t you?
I’ve been working on my living room. Painting, buying posters, framing. I even got two pieces of art hung on the wall today. Well, and the chair. I guess you know about the chair now. I promise to write to you about the living room when I get more finished. I know I say that all the time, “I’ll write more when the project is more finished.” I really do have good intentions. Part of the problem is my tendency to start new projects before finishing the current ones. Nothing finished, nothing to write about. I’ll try to work on that.
I did finish a book today! And I only started reading it in June of 2012. That’s one down and about five others to go that I’ve started and abandoned for the next story that caught my fancy. I am vowing to finish them in the order I started them. Please don’t take it personally. Reading other people’s writing is not just enjoyable, it improves my correspondence with you. Which reminds me, I’m behind on my blog reading.
I’ve also written a few things recently that weren’t for you. I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to find out this way, but it’s not always about you, Journal, okay? Wait. That was uncalled for. I’m feeling guilty and I’m taking it out on you.
All I can say is, I’m sorry and I promise to be more attentive.
Hmm. The fall tv season does start tomorrow…um…well, I’ll try my best.
Look, I’m sorry, I hate to cut it short, but…my laundry is wrinkling in the dryer and I need to load up my freezer with peanut butter and jam sandwiches.
And I’m missing tonight’s installment of Foyle’s War on PBS. I love Foyle’s War. I hate for you to feel like I’m choosing, but I’m afraid I am. I’m choosing British WWII period mystery drama over you tonight.
I really have to close now.
But I do promise not to be a stranger.
I hope when I make time to write, you will still be there waiting for me.
Your neglectful, but regretful writer,
4 thoughts on “Dear Journal”
I can relate to every word of this. Sometimes there just isn’t time to both live life and write about it, you know?
I know. And I’m sure I don’t have as much going on as you do!
Glad you are back!!! Dad