As many of you know, for the past four months, my hubby and I have been living in our fifth-wheel in an RV park in south central Florida to help my mom and dad. Living in Florida this winter has not been a hardship. Normally we would have been in the middle of all those frigid temperatures and piles of snow. I admit to enjoying the sunshine and warmth weather, being able to walk outside instead of hibernating. But while we've been able to get away for a day or two here and there, I'm here for my parents and basically on call. My dad was discharged from the nursing home last Thursday (yay!) but there's already been a late night run to the ER.
I'm glad I'm at a point in my life where I'm able to help them. I haven't spent this much time with my parents since I was growing up at home and I'm enjoying much of this time together. I don't want to sound like I'm whining or complaining, but the truth is, most mornings I wake up with a fist of nerves in my stomach. We never know what the day will bring. I have so much respect for caregivers. I'm only doing a fraction of what many of them do.
I miss my family and friends up home. The little guy is two-years-old, growing and changing every day. My son and his wife are expecting their first child in May and I'm missing watching her grow large with child. There are texts and phone calls and pictures and videos, and we'll catch up on all those hugs we've missed when we get home. I expected to miss my family.
I didn't expect to miss writing.
First of all, I thought I'd be able to keep up with my writing. I thought I'd have finished Her Royal Masquerade by now. I thought I'd have another book started by now. After all, I do have a lot of free time I could spend at the computer. But I discovered that just because my time is free, it doesn't mean my brain is. I didn't expect it to be so filled with G-tubes and dysphagia and doctor appointments and pureed food diets and overwhelmed mother and recovering father, that there isn't any room left for creativity. I've tried to write but if I'm not staring at a blank screen, the words I do type are stilted and I end up deleting them.
So somewhere down the line, I stopped writing. I'm allowing myself these few months to give the writing a rest. It will still be here when life settles down. I'm reading a lot. Hoping to refill the well. I have plans for a couple new series and even considering a new direction. But for right now I'm not writing. I'm okay with that. I'm not allowing myself to feel guilty for not writing.
But I miss it.