Years ago I stumbled upon this blogging project called Five Minute Friday hosted by Lisa Jo Baker. The idea was for bloggers to set a timer and write their loveful hearts out for five minutes without editing or overthinking. Then the hard part: hit publish on whatever they just created. As a constant editor, I found it awful and freeing. Five Minutes are not many minutes. And the first five are not usually my favorite. That time is the outline, the rough draft, the “turn my thoughts into something I can start to work with.” But it’s also probably the realest part. It’s the part where I’m feeling whatever it…
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Five Minute Friday: See
I don’t want to miss this. This is the dinner-slapped-together time. The getting-to-bed-too-late time. The change-his-outfit-again time. This is the period we will look back on with smiles and remember with joy. Her smell, the way his nose crinkles when he smiles, her messy knot of hair in the back. These are the days I want to tell their future selves about. The days they won’t remember, but the days they’ll want to hear. These are the days I am tired. The days I feel done. The days I wonder what I was thinking yesterday when I thought I had this. These are the days I run into the bathroom…
