Mojo

A few folks whose blogs I love have recently nudged me about my absence here. One said, "And what is up with YOU not writing?" Another simply cleared her throat in my direction. But a third nailed it today by questioning whether I had lost my writing mojo.

Yeah, I think I have. And I miss my mojo. Not just my writing mojo, but my teaching mojo, my parenting mojo, my wifing mojo, my friendship mojo... You get the idea.

Some people get all miserable and grey as summer turns to winter turns to fall. Me? I think I struggle more with the transition toward the warmer months. Can you get Seasonal Affective Disorder this time of year? If so, I have it.

Those of you who teach might understand better than those who don't. This is the time of year when everything is drawing to a close. We have testing and registration and talk of who-is-teaching-what-next-year to remind us that our time with our favorite people is drawing to a close. Each time we dust the pollen off our windshields, we are reminded that there is no more hope for a much-coveted snow day this year. The days get longer, and the little people are decidedly sleepier in the afternoon. I am left with little but my thoughts and reflections about how the year has gone while faced with the fourth quarter - which inevitably is gone before you know it. All of it gets to me a little. It's a what's-done-is-done time of year. It's too late to reset, too early to stick a fork in it and call it done.

And then there is all the remembering. March means momma's birthday. April means Daddy died. May means Momma died. I don't want those months to mean those things, but they always will, just like November means Thanksgiving and December means Christmas. It's not like I make a big deal out of it, or at least I don't think I do. But I notice. And I am not at the point where I always like noticing - yet. Just today, I was working on a prompt-response challenge with my little friends and one of them said something about one reason he'd like to meet Dan Uggla is because he plays for the Braves. When I asked him, "So what?" (My sneaky way to remind them to elaborate) he said, "Because I have always loved the Braves and my grandpa loved the Braves and I would love to meet him so I could spend some time thinking about my grandpa." Now, mind you, I had taught them they can always use the "Fake Grandpa" elaboration when they can't think of any other way to explain what they mean by one of their statements. But THAT Fake Grandpa choked me up!

Anyway...

It's the time of year when I realize I have been existing more than living. I just don't like that.

(So what?)

Existing is no way to live. I want to cherish moments, appreciate wonders, and use my time fully. I want to get the junk done I need to do so I can do what I WANT to do. I long for new challenges to embrace, new accomplishments to have achieved. I need that fresh perspective spring ought to bring to kick me in the butt and keep me going, looking for my mojo, reclaiming it.

So, thank you, fellow writers and friends, for reminding me about this way to process and express all the thinking that goes on in this noggin. I'm here, like the Whos Horton heard - I am here! I am here! I am here!