Author: Meredith

This is the best part of my day.

Waking up to that first cup of freshly brewed tea. Snuggling in for the evening in my pajamas. Curled up on the sofa with my laptop. Lounging in bed with my head against a soft pillow. Hugging my babies. Sitting down to write my lists and page. There are many different things that could be considered the best part of my day. Each day is a little different for me because I work retail. My schedules vary, and so do my daily routines. However, each day I find a little moment of bliss. With the weather warming up, I’ve got opportunities to sip coffee on the back deck while listening to the birds sing. I can take a walk and listen to music. Each day has its own opportunities for happiness, and I seek to seize each and every single one of those precious moments.

I’m trying not to talk about

…what happened during 2013 and 2014 anymore. I’m trying to repress those bad memories and move forward. I know I probably learned some very valuable lessons during that time, but I also learned that there are big evils in this world masquerading as the good guys. I sat down with people who assumed my values must suck only to tell stories about family traditions that have held up through many years before they came along to tell me that I need to have traditions. I’m trying to talk about it because I don’t want that to be my story — I don’t want to be known and remembered for THAT. I had a story to share before all of that. I had aspirations before all of that. Unfortunately, those aspirations have become distant memories as a result of shifted priorities (re: fighting the system), and I no longer feel that yearning. The motivation is gone, and now I’m simply seeking to spark the flames once again, searching for inspiration to find my way back to myself — or at least to a new dream. I’m trying not to talk about it, but it doesn’t seem to be working out that well because I keep having to go back there. I’m tired of going back there. Can we please just leave it in the past and let go? Let it go and move forward.

The moment I enter the kitchen I feel…

…ready to eat. The kitchen is my happy place. I love cooking and baking. I create ideas in the kitchen. I nourish growing children with love and wholesome ingredients. I test new recipes and perfect old ones. The kitchen is the main room of the home for me — if the kitchen is stocked full of good food, cleaned, and ready for meal prep, the house is in order. There have been times, however, where entering the kitchen was more of a depressing event. Trying to find ingredients to create a meal seemed so daunting with so few options. Money was tight, hopes were dim, and the family was fragmented. Thankfully, those times are behind us, and the kitchen is once again the happiest room in the home.

I immediately feel my body tense up whenever I hear…

…sirens, the phone ringing, or a child cry out. To understand the sirens, read about my Valentine’s Day 2008. I’ve learned to associate the sound of my home phone or cell phone as a bill collector — or worse. The first few months of 2013 really just destroyed my desire to make or receive phone calls. And of course, my poor little heart just can’t take the thought of something terrifying or hurting one of my children, or any child for that matter. There are plenty of stories to explain all the horrifying reasons my body tenses up at any of these sounds, but far too many to explore here for my own good.

I wouldn’t call it a collection as such, but I do seem to have a lot of…

…stuff. I have skinny clothes and chunky clothes. I have hair accessories that I rarely ever use and a bunch of flowers that I enjoy rotating out. I have several scarves and plenty of cozy hoodies. I hold onto a lot of these things partly because I know I’ll need them at some point (cold weather requires scarves and sweaters, but summer certainly doesn’t) and partly because I don’t feel like confronting the purge (what if I get skinnier? what if I get chubbier?).

I tend to have different colored pens on hand at all times. I use them until they are completely dried out. When I write my lists and journal, I enjoying keeping my words literally colorful. It enhances the experience for me. Again, it’s not really a collection, but some times it might seem as such.

It’s the first thing that comes to mind when I wake in the morning and the last thing I think of before I go to sleep.

The path ahead. No matter what else pops into my head on each given morning and as I lay my head down each night, my mind always wanders to that special “what if” place. This can be both a good and bad place to be, granted bad more often than not. Some days I have a clearer vision of that path before me than others. Some days I know where I want to go — others I just want to take the path that leads me back under the covers. This path ahead of me is slow and winding, bringing some interesting sights as I travel along. Mine is a path yet trodden, so it’s up to me to determine the course.

Whenever thunder grumbles overhead, I think of…

…snuggling safely under a blanket in the sanctuary of my home. I’m reminded of thunderstorms from my childhood when the steamy New York summers would bring flashes of lightning and crashes of thunder. I’m reminded of the unpredictable Floridian storms that seemingly pass through daily during the rainy season. I remember the terrifying storms of April 2011, our first year in Northwest Georgia — and seeing that mountains don’t actually stop tornadoes from forming into horrific disasters. When thunder grumbles overhead, I seek shelter. I seek comfort. I offer comfort to my children, who seem absolutely petrified by thunderstorms. I brace for possibilities, but I also find peace when I’m inside.

One of my greatest sources of inspiration has always been…

…going outside. I love fresh air, singing birds, lush trees, fluffy clouds, clear skies, and sunshine. I love starry, moonlit nights and the chirping of crickets. The feeling of wind through my hair as it rushes past. The chance encounters with wildlife. Something about going outside always softens my mood and provides a quick boost of inspiration. In fact, I’m sitting outside on my back deck enjoying some twilight typing as I respond to this particular story starter. Spring birds are calling to each other in a tree overhead. They look like blue jays from here, although it’s getting harder to see through the branches as all the spring green leaves have begun to unfurl. A quick search confirms that the songs I heard were indeed blue jays singing in that tree. The clouds are rushing past in the atmosphere on this breezy evening, inviting me to hurry my finger tips along.

The last time I felt completely relaxed was…

Honestly, I don’t quite remember the last time I was completely relaxed. Maybe it was Sunday night after getting home from work and getting to enjoy the rest of my evening. However, I’ve been tense as of late. I don’t know that I’ve felt completely relaxed in several months. I don’t believe I’ll be completely relaxed until we move and get settled in our new home. Moving stresses me out. Writing this out makes me realize I need to spend a little more time focusing on relaxing in order to reduce my stress levels for the interim.

Giving birth doesn’t have to be literal. So far in my life I have birthed…

Obviously I’ve birthed three children, but creatively I’ve birthed this blog. I’ve birthed a business idea. I’ve birthed a few websites. I’ve birthed a prompt series. From a creative perspective, you can birth just about anything you want. What you create becomes an extension of yourself, like your offspring. My ideas have grown, just as my children have. My ideas need nurturing, just as my children do. I have ideas I’ve conceived, yet not given birth to just yet. They need more time to mature and grow before they can be birthed into the world.