It’s 8:55 a.m. I wish I had more time.
Story of my life, right?
I want to write so much.
I want to write about how I finished Joni & Ken’s book at 5:00 a.m., with the moonlight streaming in through the big window over our living room, and all I could hear was Brokaw snoring, and the air purifier in the bedroom as Michael slept.
I want to write about how after I finished it, I snuggled up on my favorite shoulder in the world, shed a few tears, then fell back asleep.
I want to write about the nightmares I had. One was about giving a pair of cute mint Chuck Taylors found on sale, up to someone else, and having immense regret about it. Another was about how I was spending weekend time at home, until my boss called me to YELL at me about how the news was a mess and I needed to come to work immediately. And for some reason, I kept not going in, and yet at the same time, not getting anything done at home.
I have very real dreams.
I want to write about how I’m surprised by how much I miss being at the White House Correspondents’ Dinner this weekend, but share about how the pain of not being there but having been there before is not quite as bad as the pain of wanting to go and wondering if I will ever get there was.
I want to write about TV news, and Boston, and Marvell Edmonson and how now that I’m a little older, I think it all affects me a little differently. And about that guy who cursed on the air and ended up on the Today Show.
I want to write about seeing our friends Steve and Christy and how special they are and how life and God are crazy good sometimes, if you just pay attention.
I want to put together the Origami Owl giveaway for a blog reader.
Life goes on.
I’m out of time.
Maybe, maybe at some point, I will re-open this computer, expand my thoughts, and experience that deep exhale I feel when I write. I miss that feeling so much.
For now, another inhale.
Yes, it’s a gift.
But this party is going by too fast.
See y’all later. It’s 9:04 a.m., and I've got to go.