I’m writing from a junior college library. As lackluster as that may sound, it’s actually feeling pretty indulgent. It’s spacious, quiet—and all the book-lined shelves speak to a prevailing order that feels peaceful and reassuring.

I always like to play pretend that if I could just hole up in a library or an abandoned room for a few weeks, I would pound out something on these keys that would be meaningful. Some sort of block I could build from.

Except, I tried that back in April when I had a whole condo and 9 days to myself. I sat stumped for longer than I care to admit. Then I binged Suits on Neftlix (or Prime?) and walked for several hours a day and went to my favorite pilates studio.

So, I don’t think time to myself is all that’s standing in the way of a great literary career. Solitude wasn’t the missing ingredient to me writing in any well planned or structured kinda way.

But also—Suits was engrossing. And I did feel like I spent time with Jesus, even if I didn’t have anything to write about. That can’t be a waste, right?

***

The leaves are changing in Colorado. They are beautiful. Ablaze in their own individual color arrangements. And it’s definitely cooling off here too.

When I first came to visit after my dad’s cancer diagnosis, it was all 85 degrees and hot which forced me to buy a pair of denim Magnum PI shorts.

When my mom and I took a walk earlier, we talked a little about the autumn colors. We also happened upon an assisted living center with a sign out front. It called itself a memory center. Just seeing those words—memory center—gives her some hope.

A small dose of hope’s good enough for now.

***

This is just my own speculation, but it must be pretty terrifying to be living in your body when your brain isn’t working properly anymore.

I’ve watched her give up (prematurely) on telling me a story because she realized she’s going to have too much trouble recalling the words that she’ll need to verbally sketch out an effective picture to get her point across.

And yet, an office receptionist at her neurologist tells me she can’t get in until February (!!). So we’re going back to her general practitioner on Monday to ask if he can provide her with the referral we’ll need to get her on the wait list for a local memory center.

This seems like a long time to wait. But like I said, small hope’s okay for now.

written: 10.10.22