I took the weekend off from writing. Inspiration comes in spurts. Sometimes it chatters at you like a certain four year old I know, with such clever rapid fire you can hardly take notes fast enough. Other times it is quiet. This weekend, it was quiet.
The oldest was at her dad’s. Harper is on the line between clothing sizes. So we packed up all the three month sizes and dug out all the six month sizes. By the end of the weekend, everything was washed and put away, the house was clean (ish), I had caught up on a little sleep and even got sunburned sitting on the deck. The car was cleaned and washed and we had had time for a long walk. It was a good weekend.
When you write, the quiet can be scary. What if the inspiration is gone? But soon you realize it always comes back. And that’s when you learn to truly appreciate the quiet.