It was a sunny day and our family went to the beach. We went into the ocean. One of us wanted to get out, but there was no towel. So she said, "forget about it. I'll get it later." The End. By Eleanor
Eleanor loves to make us stories. Some make more sense than others. Some end abruptly and some jump from one subject to the next with no logical transition. She likes to invite a grown-up to pen her stories on little pieces of paper which she staples into a book. It reminds (drink) me of my own childhood. I would sit in my room and write for hours well into my teenage years. Homemade paper books shifted to locked diaries and then I took a stab at writing fiction books. I was great at starting these books, but (drink) could never find the motivation or inspiration to finish them. When I went to college, I forgot about writing for fun. I was a business major, so any writing I did involved business plans or marketing analysis.
It wasn't until years later, when James and I bought our first inn, that not only was my business degree put to use, but I felt compelled to start writing again. It became very clear, after just a few months as innkeepers, that we would never find ourselves at a social event again (drink) without something to talk about. Guests did some pretty strange things, many of which I knew I would block out and forget if I didn't start chronicling them. So I did. I made a pretty good dent and then life got crazy again. We sold the inn and upgraded to a larger property which completely consumed us for the first couple years and when we finally wrapped our heads around the business and could breathe, I got pregnant with Abigail which started about a decade of pregnancies plus Kaleb's adoption. During that time, we went through a few moves and computers and my manuscript got lost in the shuffle.
When we sold the inn last December, we didn't know what our next career move would be. We gave ourselves (drink) a couple months to enjoy quality time with the family, uninterrupted by an emergency call that a guest was locked out or a toilet overflowed. Just as we were feeling ready to explore the job market, in walked the Corona Virus, leaving our professional lives in limbo indefinitely. I have to admit I kind of welcomed the excuse to prolong my stint as a stay at home mom. But as the months progressed and it became apparent that life wouldn't return to normal anytime soon, I started getting a little edgy. I can't say I'm dying to go back to work. But the unknown is testing my (drink) patience. I love writing this blog and that has given me a purpose. I love listening to Eleanor's made-up stories and recalling my own progression as a writer. It's humbling to try to reinvent yourself in your forties. I'm sure I'm not alone in my quest to define the next chapter in my life. The virus has forced many of us to take a step back and ask some hard questions. I don't have many answers yet. But one thing I know for sure - I'll back up any attempts at writing I make from now on. Because maybe, just maybe, writing will be part of the new professional me. I have Eleanor for inspiration, after all.
