“Writing for me is about Truth.” Taura Stinson
“The Ides of March”
Fiction. Based on a True Ray of Sunlight.
by Lynn Duncan
This journal entry is inspired by true events. Some of the characters, names, businesses, incidents, and certain locations and events have been fictionalized for dramatic purposes. Any similarity to the name, character or history of any person is entirely coincidental and unintentional.
The sun is out. It feels like the first day in a very long time that I feel like I’m awake. Alive with creative energy. Distracting me from work. I should be working. I should be doing homework. But I’m not. I’m writing. Filling my mind with images. Some painful. Some in relationship to the book I’m writing.
I snap a screenshot of the galaxy photo on my lock page on my phone and I send it to her. Filled with creative nervousness.
Something about 3. I was born on the day there were three threes on the date. I’ve always been drawn to the number. Three daughters. Three sons. Three moons. Three rings. I’ve always wondered why that was.
I look for answers in meditation. In the smoke of sage spiraling upwards warding my home. In bathtubs filled with salt and bubbles. Cups of coffee.Cups of Tea. Salt in corners. Cats guarding against shadow people. Lit Candles on every surface. Creative Energy.
I tell Husband what I’m feeling and he feels it too. Just as distracted as I am. Mind in a million places. But like hummingbirds never staying too long. The first bee of the season reminds me of sunsets, and children screaming laughter. The water balloon fights and barbecues past present and future.
Strange how six months pass so quickly. How so much can change so fast. I used to never write about myself. I would make up stories of other people. Other versions of myself. For their happiness. I never wrote for myself. About myself. And now I do. I have learned that I have to. Because though spring is here, winter is never far behind. And just because the sun is here, that means the shadows are too. Waiting. Some lurking. Some just are. But all of them fit to remind you that you can fall of that warm loving cliff bathed in sunlight back down into the hole of icy sharp pain. And at the bottom, all the things that you had locked away. The grief. The anger. The self imposed guilt of things left unsaid. Even though you wrote that letter. You saw its burned remains with his ashes. And no matter how far you run into the light. Darkness’ shadows are never far behind.
So enjoy the light starchild. Enjoy the warmth and the love. Hang on to it, and use it to remind yourself that there has to be balance. Always balance. You love deeply and so you feel deeply. Crystals kept in pockets to remind you to guard against the things that hurt. But eventually, homeostasis will happen. The balance will come. Maybe not today. Definitely not tomorrow. But one day.