Saturday, January 22, 2011

A Different View

For years I'd gone to the eye doctor's and lusted after the thick, dark glasses worn by those smart, creative, writerly types. I promised myself that when I became a 'real' writer, I'd buy a pair. And one day, after years of submitting on evenings and weekends, and months of working at it full-time, I decided to trash my preconceived notions - whatever a 'rea'l writer was, I was it. I was it!

And then came my first (okay, only) big break into the national magazine market. Crazy, but - it was an article I wrote for a writing magazine about finally buying the thick writer's rims, called A New View. I loved those glasses.

Past tense.

The first time my daughter broke them, I didn't think much of it. Sported some duct tape for a few weeks and then got them fixed. Two days ago, she pulled them apart for a second time. I can't help but see the metaphor. I haven't written or submitted one thing since she's been born. And worse: up until a few weeks ago, I haven't wanted to. In the new world of first steps, hugs and bubble baths, writing about the benefits of eating bananas couldn't hold a candle. I couldn't have cared less.

Past tense.

Because when those glasses broke this time, I felt something other than exasperation. I felt sad. I miss the solitude of writing, and I miss being something other than 'mom'.

So back to writing, it is. Back to me. It may no longer be a new view, but after a year of parenting, it IS a different one. A fuller, more informed (albeit, more tired!) and experienced one.

2 comments:

Richard said...

I bought my first pair of glasses in 10 years recently (only wore contact lenses). Usually I only wear them late at night or in the morning before I get ready. On those rare occasions that I'm wearing my glasses, I'll be around David (6 months old) who will do his best to absolutely mangle them. I think babies have an innate sense to grab glasses off your face and destroy them.

Colleen said...

Ha! Agreed. Think I'll just stick with the duct tape until she's at least, oh, 10.