Missing the Wave

Scrupulous. Intentional. Breathing in moments.

That’s how I envisioned last week would be. Daily life landed me far from the mark, and I missed some moments. One moment in particular hurt my heart a little bit, but sometimes that’s what it takes to snag my attention.

I was working in the yard moving plants as my daughter walked out of the house toward her Jeep. I walk up alongside her, give her a hug, and as she backs out, I stroll over to the pathway of stepping stones in the middle of the yard and wait for her to drive by. Except that day, I had a shovel in my hand and was moving one more plant.

This is something new we began doing this year, and it’s become ritual.

Normally, I stand on the path, wait for her to drive by and give her this wave filled with exuberance, like Miss America after drinking way too much coffee. She waves too, but that day when she drove by, I was in the side yard, so I missed the wave. It’s difficult to know how important something is until it’s missed.

A few days later she was leaving the house and we stepped through our leaving ritual. I suggested when she reached the end of the driveway to turn in the opposite direction and drive by the house one lot over that had been beautifully repainted. She sat there a moment and said, “But if I go that way, I’ll miss the wave.”

I smiled and on que began walking toward the middle of the yard to the path. This time, there was no missing the wave.


There once was a guy who named his dog, ‘Stay.’ When he called him to come the poor dog heard, “Come here, Stay.”

To Step Away

I had to step away from my work.

We moved to a new online customer service platform last week, the second one since June, and there’s a lot to learn. I’ve also learned how and when to step away.

I read Stephen King’s Memoir, ‘On Writing.” He talks about how he always had a nook to write in. Underneath the stairway was one, but he does his best writing tucked away in a corner. He discourages writing out in the open and suggests going into a room, shutting the door and forbidding anyone to open it.

Well Stephen, I’m sorry, but that’s not me.

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I need an open, yet peaceful space for writing. I can see myself sitting outside once the weather cooperates.

Going off Stephen’s suggestion, I slid my desk into the corner of the room to do some serious writing, but here’s what evolved. It’s where I do my best work, but for my job. When I walk over to the desk I know it’s time to get serious about work, but writing is not work for me.

I don’t have a distracting environment. It’s peaceful for the most part, so I unplugged my laptop, took it off my desk and walked over to the kitchen table to write. Here I sit writing this post because this was a hard lesson to learn. I have to step away from work and take time for this Blog. It’s almost a need to take time for writing.

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No one is going to do it for me, but if I’m not careful, I’ll get wrapped up in work and it will take away my writing.

I’m no Stephen King, but I fancy myself a writer. Life is a beautiful thing to be enjoyed, but writing can easily get knocked down the list. If it’s important it will take time and the path is long. Anything worthwhile doesn’t happen overnight, otherwise it’d be easy to succeed.

Thank you for meeting me here today. I’ll go back to work realizing writing may not feel like work, but it’s just as important as work. There are times my work can wait, but writing cannot, and it’s okay to step away.