In my little world, I’ve been preoccupied with my son starting school. It isn’t easy on him. It’s huge adjustment for a little guy to go from staying home with Mommy to going to school without Mommy. I drop him off and then go home to stare at the empty rooms where I feel a mixture of luxury and heartbreak.

Luxury because I can actually hear myself think for the first time in 5 years.

Heartbreak because it’s a little melancholy having to let go.

So my solution (for myself at least) was to buy a journal. I stopped journaling a long time ago for several different reasons–the biggest of which was that if I had the time to write and actually think straight with a child at home, I was going to use it on novel writing. Now, I don’t have to choose between the two. Imagine!

So I’ve been reading books, writing in my journal–which is nothing short of luxury, I assure you!–and trying to make myself relax a bit. When I can slow down and think about the random things in life, untangle my feelings, or describe a passing moment, I start filling myself up with words and descriptions.

I’m refueling.