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My life is not my own. 

I think this for about the 1,000th time as I sit in the car, waiting for Kelly. And Dan. The scent from a pan of roasted asparagus hastily pulled from the oven, clings to me.

Dinner will have to wait.

We both worked late. Now it’s already 5:45 p.m. and we have to run my car down to the shop before it closes, drop something off at my mother’s, pick up dog food for Sam (because Dan is in charge of that and why would he ever think to buy it before he actually needs it, right?), and get propane to grill the chicken for dinner (see previous parenthetical comments). And we need to do all of it in less than an hour because Kelly needs to be to her voice lesson at 7 p.m.

So much for a walk. So much for blogging. So much for reading. So much for dinner. So much for actually getting out of my work clothes before 8 p.m.

My life is not my own. 

Pieces of me are doled out and I often find myself frustrated at the lack of control over the minutes, hours, and days of my life. My  life is slipping away as I’m just pulled along in the current of life, checking off all those have-to-dos and must-dos and the endless obligations that come with being a mother, wife, and wage-earner.

Scoop the cat litter. Feed the fish. Go to work. Wipe up the mud on the floor. Waterproof Lauren’s new boots. Run. Make dinner. Fold the clothes in the dryer. Restock the toilet paper in the half bath. Pack lunches. Pay bills. Clean the dog drool off the sliding glass door. Water the plants.

It seems meaningless, fruitless, and endless.  And I could completely drown in it if not for the knowledge that it’s entirely temporary.

The pets will die. The kids will leave. There will be two loads of laundry a week instead of two a day. There will be plenty of time to read, write, and reflect on a life that seemed rote, but was blessed with lots of people and things worth living for.

Right now, my life is not my own. And that’s OK.

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About Just Write: Just Write is my adaptation of free writing, a technique in which a person writes continuously and quickly without little regard for spelling, grammar, or topic. It helps writers overcome blocks of apathy and explore everything from meaningful topics to mundane observations with the same effort and without the pressure of crafting perfect prose. I just start writing.

“What ends up revealing itself when free writing is that everything has meaning. That is a magnificent gift of writing. If we write from a free heart-gut place, our souls start speaking.”