I'm a Poet and Forgot it

I was driving to work on Friday and worrying about my usual worries (a new set every week). Suddenly this NPR story came on. Whenever I suddenly hear poetry or another kind of author reading his or her writing, my worries freeze in their tracks and I'm transfixed. It doesn't even matter what it's about.

After another really busy and draining week at work I suddenly remembered for maybe the millionth time in my life, "Oh yeah. I'm a writer." That thought always brings a sense of combined peace and urgency.

I'm glad I know that about myself. I have had to let go of other things about myself that I once was but simply don't have time for anymore. I no longer learn languages and, more importantly, I no longer play music. There just isn't the time. Every now and then I have a dream about playing music again, in an orchestra usually. It's being part of something larger that makes me love the music. Although I guess I feel that way when playing alone too. Remember this post?

I'm not even quite sure where my flute is in all of these boxes still unpacked.

But I do write.