I’ve been waiting. Waiting for kids to grow, for the perfect office space, for the Big Idea, for the kids to leave for college, for a husband to share equitably in the household duties, and for the most part, I’m still waiting. Three in college and one at home means my days feel infinitely longer. But, after years of waiting for the quiet and serenity that now fills my days, I am finding there is an awful lot of day to fill. In the flow of writing, I am so accustomed to writing with one eye on the clock, one foot out the door, that to sit uninterrupted in the quiet of the day before my desktop is disquieting. By nature, I am a multitasker. A woman who seemingly functions best with limited time and scarce resources. I credit my New England roots for the ability to make something out of nothing. I now wonder If some of my best prewriting was done while loading up the washing machine and unloading the dishwasher. I have volumes of notebooks I filled while sitting at swim meets, and volleyball games and doctor’s appointments. I created some of my best stories while helping with homework vocabulary, taking a temperature and cheering for a first place finish or winning serve.
Toni Morrison once wrote of her experience as a writer and single mother of two young boys, that she found the time to write “in the edges of the day.” Perhaps I write best in the stolen moments, around the edges. The quiet can be a good place for meditative time and the gathering of thoughts and I trust that there will come a time when I will need this space to create and grow as a writer. That the days will once again be filled to the brim. The transition into this quiet period has not necessarily provided the yield I once hoped but it has led me to the realization that the best writing may not always come under ideal circumstances, but in the unexpected times, while waiting for the space to create.