I've written so little since my father died. Recently, as I gowned and gloved for a big surgical case, a surgeon asked me why I haven't sent him any of my work. He's interested in the pieces I write that bring my morbid fascination with body parts and near death and the beauty of surgery all into a tidy poetic package. I told him that since Dad's death I'm just not motivated, that I can't seem to find my muse. Truth is that I've been so tired. I've been going home after work and falling onto my couch, then into my bed. I've had no energy for words.
Slowly this is changing. I've been sleeping better. I'm running again. I've been out with friends - often. They tell me I'm much more like my old self, and have been for weeks. Yesterday the words flowed from me in a happy, familiar way. I turned the stereo off and enjoyed the tap-tap of my keyboard as I filled the screen in front of me with line after line of what may be good. I think it's good. At the very least, it felt good.
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These breaks from writing are necessary from time to time. It's good to know you're back in the swing of things though. When the writing really comes back, it will be stronger than ever. I hope you continue feeling good! :)
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