Random thoughts on feeling ready

writing and coffee and dad

For the past 7 weeks I have taken part in Nic Antoinette’s Word Camp. It was a dedicated space and time, once a week to sit down and write for 90 minutes with a group of other writers on Zoom. I’ve been enjoying Nicole’s Wild Letters substack for a while now and when she presented this offering I took the plunge. I’ve been doing a variety of writing challenges and journaling exercises over the years, but this appealed in a different way and I really liked the aspect of writing with other writers. We began the session by sharing (or not) what we were working on and at the end we could share (or not) what we accomplished. In fact, my first substack post was born on one of these Zoom sessions. I typed into the chat box that “I am almost ready to hit publish on my first substack post.” And Nicole responded, “you don’t have to be ready.” And so….. I hit publish and here we are. Today is my third post and while I still don’t feel ready, I guess that doesn’t really matter.

This week was the first week that I didn’t have the cowriting space, but I created the date with myself and have been writing more consistently than I have in years. When it came time to decide what I wanted to share today I was feeling indecisive. I had a few posts written to varying degrees of satisfaction and mentioned to a friend that I was feeling unsure and she suggested to close my eyes and point. Somehow that shifted something for me, and while I didn’t exactly do that, I just chose something that was calling to me today, at this moment. Once again. The next obvious thing.

So, while this is not what I intended today’s post to be about, here we are. And now we can move on to the rest of the post.

The piece I am sharing today started as part of a writing challenge I took part in a few months back. I reread it and made a few changes, additions, deletions and thought it interesting enough to share with you here.

I was on the phone with the hospice nurse when my dad died. I like to think he was waiting for me to call and say goodbye to him and then he could go. The nurse was surprised with the timing but I wasn’t. I still feel a little sad that I couldn’t be there to see him before he left the earth and his body, but it was Covid and and things were weird. And he was in Florida and I was in Michigan. I like to think he understood and was good with it.

I remember going to his house later and it seemed weird to be there without him. I only took a few things back with me. I love making coffee in my kitchen now using his Moka coffee pot. I feel sad that I broke the coffee cup that I took from his house, although I glued it mostly back together, but can no longer can drink from it. It says  “A day without COFFEE is like…whatever, I have no idea”  and reminds me of my dad.

I love coffee. Maybe too much. (Is that a thing?) And I love cream in my coffee, not milk. And a delicious, buttery croissant with it.

I do not like tea. Yet I always try to like tea. I buy boxes each winter that promise tasty, healthy, comforting things. But I always feel like I am drinking warm slightly flavored water and how much I would love some coffee instead. Back to coffee.

I would love to live on the beach. It is my happy place. I feel like I can walk forever and listen to waves crashing on the shore, breathing the sweet, salty air. Or sitting reading a book as the sun warms my skin.

I love getting in bed with clean sheets. I should change the sheets more often. I say this every time I put new sheets on the bed.

I had 4 surgeries on my left eye because I smacked it with a rubber resistance band doing PT exercises for my shoulder. I am incredibly grateful to the surgeons and nurses. I can still see out of it but it’s a bit wonky.

Egg sandwiches are one of my favorite things to eat. Maybe because there is usually coffee involved. Back to coffee.

One of my super powers is always picking an avocado that will ripen the day that I want to eat it. And I can keep it alive for at least a week after.

I love to run long distances, wear really fun running clothes and eat Pop-Tarts. I am planning to run a 100 mile race this year. Actually 2 of them. Go big or go home.

My favorite post race treat is potato chips and iced coffee. Yes. Coffee. Again.

I was an English major but have been cooking in professional kitchens for over 20 years.

I got my first tattoo at 55 and my second at 57. I think it’s time for another. Maybe it should be a cup of coffee.

Thoughts on coffee? On feeling ready?

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