Monday, May 4, 2009


: a narrow opening resulting from a split or crack (as in a cliff) : fissure

Even if I haven't been able to do so literally, I've spent the last three days in a proverbial crevice. This just happened to be a 700 page book instead of a literal fissure. I wasn't able to curl up on a sofa with my book, but I did squeeze time to read the entire book in less than 4 days, even with work, laundry, church and school festivals.

I'm not sure whether to feel ashamed for doing this, or relieved that my husband was gracious enough to talk to me when I emerged from the crevice, but kind enough to leave me alone when I crawled back into the book. I'm not sure what example it sets for my daughters, but maybe when they are exhausted young (OK, middle aged) mothers, they will remember me with my books and decide it's OK to do what refuels their tanks.

I'm still tired, but I did make myself get up and run this morning, for the first time in weeks. I can't promise I'll do that again tomorrow, but it's a start, as is acknowledging that I've spent the last few days in a crevice of my own choosing.

I don't really think it's wrong to spend some time in a crevice, but I do think it's a bit fearful. Am I hiding or re-charging? Is there a big difference? I think the difference is whether I come out of the crevice willing to walk forward, or looking back towards the safety of my lair.

I have a creativity assignment due on Thursday, so look for fiction on this topic later this week.

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