I sit on our living room floor, school bag spilling out notes and papers and books and pens (always pens) beside me.
The house is finally quiet, children and husband sound asleep, each worn out by our unusually busy Wednesday. The quiet hum of the fan upstairs couples with the slow, steady breathing of my dog curled up at my feet, only interrupted by the occasional rumbles of the furnace kicking on or the refrigerator humming.
My laptop is settled on my outstretched legs, soft glow illuminating my face as I wait for the words to come.
It’s been awhile–much too long, in fact–but in many ways it feels just like climbing back onto the seat of my most trusted childhood bicycle, streamers ready to fan out behind me and rubber handles delightfully warm to the touch.
The month ahead waits for me like a promise, an opportunity about to be fulfilled.
It’s time to slice.