So we’re here. The last day of July. The final stretch of the summer months and the last breath of El Niño. You’re not my favorite month, not my favorite season, but this year, you’ve taught me a lot of things, like patience, silence, and the beauty that comes within those two words. I would recklessly dart out every meager thought in my personal social media, but you held me by the collar and implored me to take second looks.
And you were right. There’s a lot of things I miss because of speed.
You taught me to slow down. To fold myself and fit in boxes to withstand pressure, to unroll myself in times of calamity, to stretch my hand and do things out of way because, love. This is the month I learned that there are always losses. For me who have been thinking selfishly of pure wins, this is a slap in the face, a wakening one, one that I needed. That extra work, despite not being paid for, will be done by someone else, anyway, so why don’t I do it?
PS: I did it.
And I did so many things. Under the grace of silence.
Maybe this is what makes people persevere: the beauty of waiting, the generosity of resilience.
I’m learning that not everything has to be spoken out loud or get cheered for. That quiet is in its own, a reward.
I have finished a tight, legit, loved version of my manuscript. After holding out breaths, I will be ready to query back in October. Waiting for it to ripen, sewing old themes back to the new canvas, it has been a joy. At 89,000 words, everything still feels fast, like a race car darting past across me, but I loved it. I loved everyone in it. I hope this joke of a book lands into a teenager’s hands and just laugh, because that’s the sole purpose of it. To laugh.
I have started on a new manuscript. To Get Lost Towards You is supposed to be a short story, until I realized there’s so much more to Joaquin and Danni that needs to be told, and that both kids, despite problematic, have so much gold in them. Here is where I start cussing, talk about sex, make one bully another. It feels real. And I’d be honored to finish this as my second manuscript.
Let’s make me accountable: this year.
Work has been solid. Satisfyingly solid. Before, I used the number of my clients as a crutch for ensuring this month’s bills are paid, that I can buy all my needs and wants. But now, I learn to have just enough. To not know whether I’d have new assignments coming. My “rainy days” savings have been depleted, but I am glad to be standing on a steady ground where I could clearly see God provides. Completely, thoroughly, magnanimously provides. I learned to manage my expenses and save by the breadth of hair, make better choices, cut down indulgent cravings, and seek the longevity of things rather than their ephemeral beauty.
Saying that, yes, I did buy the leather designer purse.
I want to write again. Recklessly, purposefully, like I did before. I want to carve words, mold them like pottery, shape them in their best angles where they would land softly in one’s hands and not hurt them with their sharp edges.
I want to speak out honestly, but not like an impertinent child but a valued adult. I want to keep looking after my girls in my cell group and the kids in their Sunday sessions. I want to exhort people who need a crack of light as they walk in their dark tunnels. I won’t “take time by the fetlock.” Carpe diem. Carpe diem. Carpe diem.
I want to be exposed in my limitations so people can break theirs.
I want to write new songs. New stories.
I want to grow in silence. So, I’m staying still and quieting this easily-stirred heart.
With that, I’m sewing my mouth shut.
Until my next story. x