I used to write in a notebook with a pen.
I read something somewhere that said that doing that was better for my brain.
Now I find myself thumbing words into Google Keep.
Quicker.
Closer.
Ready whenever I am.
Sorry brain.
Days when I write are better.
I can’t explain it.
Maybe I can.
Getting words out, whichever ones are at the surface…
…provides more space for others to bounce around.
An overflow valve of sorts.
Often needed when I’m stuck in a loop…
…thinking about one thing or another.
Reading them back to myself.
Therapeutic.
Resonating with others.
Comforting.
Yesterday I finished reading A Heart that Works by Rob Delaney.
…and damn it, the tears flowed.
After, all of my worries seemed trivial.
A parent’s worst nightmare — losing a child.
I’m gut punched and eviscerated.
Grateful to have read Henry’s story.
Changed somehow…again.
Feeling the palpable pain and love of his
Dad thru words I may have never known…
…if he chose not to share them.
Finding myself echoing familiar things…
…like a skipping record
Family is everything.
The everyday is everything.
×