I’m running. My brain unfurls like a flag in the wind, fluttering and snapping and creating room for all my thoughts. I soar, I dream, screeds of my book get written, blog posts unravel in front of me.
And then I get home and open the door to noise and light and kids screaming and questions asked and a fridge humming and my mom brain kicks in again. The creative unfurling petals say ‘no, no, you can check on us later, be a mom first, we’ll just curl up tight in this tiny box. Close the lid, it’s okay, we’ll be here waiting’. The lid snaps and there is a blank nothingness, an emptying of space where once there was a beautiful weighty flapping of ideas and beauty and wonder. Until next time, dear thoughts, I’ll miss the idea of you, but I won’t have time to remember you.