Today is my first day as a writer.
This is how I imagined it – sitting at the empty bar at my neighborhood coffee/taco shop, watching the rain through the open door, sipping a soy latte, and listening to Noah and the Whale while Suzanna rhythmically stamps “HomeState” on pieces of parchment paper.
I woke at 5:08 this morning, mind abuzz, probably in part due to a post-weaning hormone crash. My son, Everett, woke thirty minutes later. Dave and I lay in bed a while listening to his crooning, “Mama. Dada. Mmmmmm… mamadada. Daddy. Mom.”
In the usual whirlwind of giggles and tears, I got Everett fed and dressed, downed a bowl of Cheerios myself, and waited for it to be an appropriate hour to text the babysitter.
In a rare and beautiful moment of stillness, Everett and I sat in the rocker on the porch and watched the rain – the “rainmageddon” in LA that made national news, one of Everett’s first big rainstorms. He was content to lean back against me, yellow car in still hand, and watch the rain and the wind in the trees with wide eyes.
I finally dressed, taking extra care: I want to feel different today. I tied a scarf over my unwashed hair, put on leather boots instead of tennis shoes, and tried to wipe the kale smoothie off of my shoulder. Motherhood, as I wanted it to, subsumed my identity a year and a half ago. I gave up my job, which I loved, much of my adult interaction and communication, and most of the “productive” things that I did, in order to devote myself to this tiny, enchanting, needy being. And now, as my little nursling turns into a toddler, I am losing part of him. The tradeoff is I also regain part of myself – the thinker, writer, adult out in the world who has been dormant, soaking up nutrients from the soil of motherhood. I am ready now to grow a little fruit, or at least to try.
This has been a beautiful, terrible, wonderful season of winter. I have been transformed on the inside. Today, in a joyful experiment, I become a writer. This is a chance to bear fruit. Everywhere, on this rainy day, I see signs of spring.