No.
Many years ago, a friend noticed that I never, ever said “no”, and complimented me. Like it was a good thing; here I am, 30 years on, writing an hour at a time, most days. No more, because that is the time I have.
I am not, it seems, a “dedicated” writer, nor perhaps, a dedicated anything. I find myself pulled this way to look at a students’ college math homework; that way to finish the test harness for the new web app; another to at least start on the mountain of solitary bee classification (thousands of specimens) waiting for me at the entomology lab; still more to check how the plum trees are handling their new espalier-ed digs in front of the stone wall in the side yard; and more than anything to sit quietly with my partner in the screen house and read, or just sit. Never mind daily thoughts of dinner, or sleep.
Walking the dog.
Yes. Yes, I will. I will write. I will teach. I will research, program, cook dinner and sit with my sweetheart and gaze at the stars. I will play a little of the new music I’ve been working on since … 1989.
Eventually the years will catch up to me (that’s already starting, but I pretend), and I will stop all the reaching for.
Enough maudlin. Just, enough. I’m not good at that.
I am good at yes.
I will keep to that.
