My favorite thing about slice-ing is the way I start to look at the world differently. Everything becomes a possibility:
Creeping upstairs to hear my 11-year-old daughter reading to her 9-year-old brother as she "puts him to bed" for me.
The ice patch I almost bit it on this morning, still there this afternoon as it hid in the shade of my van.
The luxury and shame of Click-list.
A stolen hour with a good friend while at our son's baseball practice.
A precious Facebook memory popping up, and how my husband has re-watched it three times since getting home from work.
A text from a dear friend who never gives up on trying to find time to reconnect.
A car ride with my 11-year-old son, now that he can ride in the front, full of conversation about Legos and cell phones and hearing him use words like "increment" naturally.
Quizzing the twins on science vocab. Separately of course.
The exhaustion of a Monday fully lived.
Every moment today has been sifted, examined, mentally drafted into a piece. How to filter out just one of these moments? Instead I squirrel them away, treasure them, perhaps to revisit. Or maybe not.
"Every moment today has been sifted, examined, mentally drafted into a piece. How to filter out just one of these moments? Instead I squirrel them away, treasure them, perhaps to revisit."
ReplyDeleteI love love love this line. I agree...slicing does that for me, too. For one month, a month that could be slow and monotonous, we look closer instead.
I hope you write all those slices. Beautiful.
I agree! Love the last lines! “squirrel them away” - making squirrel a verb - such a cool move! And I love the maybe not at the end. 😁 Love reading your writing!
ReplyDeleteaw, thanks for reading, my friend! Are you slice-ing this year?
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