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No Words

rocky beachWhat a week it has been. Intense doesn’t even begin to come close. Prophetic dreams, unspeakable tragedies, a massive and magical family decision, laryngitis. Lots of big things and the words just don’t want to come. Sometimes I need to write to process, and other times I need to be silent for a while before I can even begin the process of writing and consciously processing.

Physically losing my voice added an interesting layer to this week’s events. Friday found me with almost no voice at all. I gave instructions to my kids in a whisper, and limped through a social gathering by listening far more than I spoke. I heard someone else mention the shootings, and I stayed silent, later reading and crying in the corner while my kids played on, blissfully ignorant. I didn’t really want to talk about it at all, and I couldn’t. I had no words.

I’m still processing, still percolating thoughts and feelings into words. Still waiting for the moment when the time and the words are right there, together. Until then, I will be knitting as I percolate, linking stitches one by one until I have something useful to give to those I love.