I sit back in front of the screen, keyboard at my fingertips with the craving to tell an extraordinary story about my day, about my life. On the tip of my tongue, creative genius is waiting to spill out.
I'm delusional. Not only am I not a creative genius, I have no extraordinary story to tell. But the craving is still there. More times than not, I ignore it for lack of something to say. Who wants to hear about my ordinary day?
I'm not in turmoil, I do not grieve, I am not a victim or lost trying to find my way. There is no delicious story full of drama, with edge of your seat excitement hidden in my past. I am no heroine. I have skeletons and regrets and scars hidden away in my closet, but they're just teeny compared. A scene of 'nothing to see here'. I'm not suffering or want for anything. I can't share stories of how I survived a tremendous ordeal.
But, if not being any of those things causes a lack of things to say, lets hope I never write another word. I guess my ordinary day is saying something all by itself. Something along the lines of 'you lucky girl' perhaps.
So today I sit here grateful and I appreciate how the ordinary can be extraordinary. This morning Owen got dressed by himself and my coffee was brewed and prepared to perfection. If I could have purred I would have, it was soooo good.
I'll keep rolling that creative genius around on my tongue until my kids do something funny.