Friday, September 20, 2013

Stealing Solitude

When I was a little girl, I loved spending time at my Grandma's house.  I especially loved spending Thursday evenings at her house.  The Waltons used to air on Thursday nights.  My Grandma would sit in her red chair.  My aunt would sit on a couch, usually reading her newspaper.  I would sit on the floor, toys spread out around me.  For an hour, we would sit and watch the show we adored.

I used to marvel at John Boy.  He was the oldest of the Walton children.  In the show, he was depicted as a high school student - later a college student.  Inevitably, during each episode, the viewer would observe John Boy sitting at his desk.  The desk was nestled beneath a window in his bedroom; It looked out into the front yard.  There, he would write.

He would write about his family.  He would write about recent events .  He would write about his desires.  He never sought to embellish but merely to tell a story.  Yes, sometimes the stories were big (such as when he witnessed the Hindenburg explode).  That was not the norm, though.  Usually, he was telling about a first kiss, or of an old woman drinking bootleg whiskey (unknowingly).  

It seemed already, to me, that most writers sought drama.  How many twists and turns could a show provide?  How many intrigues could a story include?  I guess that's why I was enamored by the Waltons.  I was enamored by John Boy and his prolific ability to write of the simplicities of life.  That's where my passion for writing began.  It's where I first learned of the importance of the "little things".  Every story does not need to involve drama, intrigue, betrayal, and murder.  A good story can tell of a poplar tree, a child giggling, a first kiss.  Yes, the older I become, the more important these things are to me.

In today's hustle and bustle, I sometimes struggle to find time for those little things: the time to write in the blog, time to just "be."  Sometimes they happen without notice (whilst collapsed in exhaustion).  Sometimes, there just isn't time.  

As summer ended, Fall crept in like a thief in the night.  Suddenly, we are in the throws of school, EI, therapies, playgroups, doctor's appointments, and extra curricular activities.  Just as morning comes too quickly, so does bedtime.  It seems harder and harder to find those moments of peace, those moments of solitude.

How very important they are for the mind and soul.  I will endeavor to find time for those little things.  Stealing solitude - how very important it is.

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