Why haven’t I been writing?
I keep asking myself that. I’ve had a terrible urge to do it a million times, but it never seems to happen. I think it’s because we’ve been living. Which is great. I mean, I’ve been having all this needless anxiety lately about the fact that M could very well be starting kindergarten, but isn’t, of course. But when I look back over the last several weeks I realize that we’ve been doing a lot. So why would we even need school? We are all doing and learning so much.
We’ve been having a million playdates at the park. We’ve gone to a wonderful water park in the Hudson Valley. And on a day with the most perfect weather, we headed to Jones Beach. I had told my husband many weeks back that I simply wouldn’t allow the summer to pass without visiting a “real beach”. You know, the kind with currents and waves and crabs, and other things like that. It was wonderful. We’ve attended a messy party. I’ve taking lots of pictures, and cooked a million meals (this CSA is keeping me on my toes). And we’ve been planning our trip to Costa Rica. That’s a lot of stuff.
But I suddenly realized today that something was missing. The writing. I guess I’ve gotten used to it. It feels really good to write. Hopefully I’ll be doing more.

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