Hoping to coax the hiding vulnerability in myself out, I ask, “What do you want to write about?” I set aside my need for a jaw-dropping, knee-slapping post and sit down cross-legged. Turning down the expectation dial, I lean back and follow the texture on the ceiling, clearing my mind and allowing space to form.
Deeper conversations at work about aging and change, while valuable, make me want a bit of silly tv and fun snacks before bed. I hope you don’t mind if I bail out early and meet you here tomorrow night.
Thanks. Love, Jaclynn
PS Note to self, don’t repurchase clamato juice ever again. It works better as an idea in your mind than in reality.
Going On 40 