Wish it were attainable

I scratch the little crack in the rubber part of the pen with my nail. I’ll probably rip it off soon and then it’ll be uncomfortable to hold and I’ll have to get a new pen. I like this one though, I got it on our trip to Edinburgh, the vacation I didn’t want to take that ended up being one of the best ones. They’re all great, because I get to be with them…

I like writing by hand. It’s slow but it gives me time to think and makes me feel involved. I am creating something that can’t just go away by holding a key on the keyboard. If I make a mistake, I get to vent out my rage by scratching nervously over the words, you can’t get that by pressing “Backspace”. For so much handwriting you would imagine I got this down to an art by now. But it’s messy and inconsistent. When I was learning how to write, I was the fastest in class, but that came at the cost of beauty. My teacher praised my fast writing skills but berated me in front of the whole class about how ugly my handwriting was, holding up my notebook as an example on how not to do it. So this confused little girl tried to change her writing while still maintaining speed. I ended up never having a consistent hand, sometime it will have beautiful long loops, other times it’ll look like a bunch of spikes crashed into one another.

But I should really hurry up and type this out soon though, deadlines are no joke.

I stretch my back for a moment, a familiar pain. It’s the posture, I have horrible posture. I look out the window next to my desk: green, my favorite color. We decided to stay at the cottage this weekend so the boys can enjoy some fresh air and I can finish the chapter I was working on from here. The air still holds on to the morning chill, but it looks like the sun might come out soon. I’m not the only one who noticed this, I can hear my husband in the hallway fighting with small jackets and boots that the little humans are refusing to put on. I promised I would let them go on a morning walk to the lake while I stay in and continue working, but their laughter is too enticing. I jump out of my seat, “I’ll write in the night” I tell myself, already forgetting that I didn’t get much sleep the night before either. I grab the worn-out hoodie hanging on the back of my chair and run to the hallway to join the war on outerwear.

We let the boys run a bit ahead while we walk behind, after all they know the path pretty well by now. The older one likes to challenge the little one and it looks like this time it will be an acorn collecting competition. Luckily John packed snacks and drinks since I neglected breakfast again. What would I do without him? He’s telling me a story about a field trip he went on when he was in school. I think I’ve heard this one before, but I just love the enthusiasm in his voice. He’s holding my hand, always firmly, it makes me feel safe.

I look up at the sunlight flickering through the leaves, a dance of light and shadow. I close my eyes, just for a minute, to feel the light on my eyelids, on and off and on and off… why is it so weirdly rhythmic? I open my eyes, the chat window is blinking, a new message from Richard:

“Hi Anna! Happy Friday!

Just a reminder that Mike wants those quarterly reports by EOD today.

Hope you can handle that.

If you have any issues I’ll be out for the rest of the day but I think Gonzalo might still be around so feel free to ping him.”