Recently, I attended a writing workshop with the awesome young adult author Matt de la Peña. (And if I may put on my school librarian hat for just a moment, if you know or work with teens, you should definitely check out Matt’s work. He’s awesome. OK, now back to your regularly scheduled programming.) I was hoping to work on a blog post about finding a place to unplug and recharge at the workshop, but the focus was on fiction, so I didn’t think I’d get a post done there. Actually, though, I managed to write something that I think works. It’s a little different, but I hope you like it.
Here’s my piece:
I imagine that I am the one who must talk the woman down. I see it, and it happens like this.
The house we have rented is small, cozy. The walls are a deep brown, not chocolate, not beige, but a rich cocoa somewhere in between. The lights are low but the room is not dim. They are incandescent bulbs, not fluorescent, distilling warmth. She is snuggled into the couch, wrapped in a fluffy afghan, and we look out at the sea as it rolls out and then back, out and then back.
She has been telling me of the strain she feels. Her job. Her children. Her husband. The books unread. The laundry unwashed. The gym classes never attended. The glasses of wine drunk. The pounds gained. The gardens overgrown.
How we face these strains in an everyday world is a momentous task. Whether we face them. Whether we can. But for these few days, in this calm space, we can set them aside. Unplug in order to recharge. Breathe in the ocean air. Explore the space around us. Feel the grains of sand scour away our troubles. Watch the sea and allow our troubles to roll out, and out, and out.
Do you have a place you can unplug and recharge?How would you describe it? Let us know in the comments. And enjoy your week or your weekend!