Harmony

Some days, it is really hard to write.  There are thoughts swirling around my head that I can't seem to encourage down to my typing fingers.  Is this what it is for Pudding?  Having thoughts that you can't express?

I think perhaps I have writer's block.  So much is happening, but I can't write at all.  It plays over and over in mind.  I lack imagination.

After a year of blogging, the same themes crop up.  I type a post, then delete it entirely.  I've said it before; there is nothing new to put down.  But there is comfort in the familiar.  Those little captured moments that are nothing, but mean everything. 

Today we went out for breakfast, and Pudding finished first.  Unprompted she told the waitress she had finished and to "take away the plate please."  That has never happened before, yet it has happened all along.

Old bits of new.  I've written it before.  Singing the same tune.  My version of echolalia.

I'm busy now, wearing a few different hats.  Feeling like I can't dedicate to anything all that I should because there are other pressing deadlines.  I flit from one thing to another, never quite doing anything.  My play is not purposeful.  I'm hyperactive.

At social gatherings, my mind is elsewhere.  I should be making small talk, but remain silent.  It gets too fast-paced for me and I want to shut out the world.  Aloof.  Uncommunicative.

When I do snap out of my reverie.  When I do enter into a conversation, how long before I manage to bring it around to my topic of interest?  Not long.  I'm perseverating.

I've spent all this time trying to understand her, completely missing the fact that she is just like me.  I find so many similarities between Pudding and the little girl I used to be.  Not so different after all.

She is here at my side as I type, so I hurry to finish.  Just as I find myself in so many ways entering her world, she wants to enter mine.  She is engaging me.  So I'll leave this post unfinished, because everything that I've ever written about is happening right now, and I don't want to miss any of it.

I ask her what she wants to do.  Sing!

So the two of us will leave our respective little worlds, and join together in our off-key harmony.

 

Spectrummy Mummy likes to write about nothing at her blog, whenever time, and her kids, and all those other distractions allow it.