I write this blog for me.
It is my way of trying to work through everything and try to heal.
I know that other people read it – and so there are some topics I don’t write about – but mostly I write this for me.
When I write books and articles for others it’s completely different. In those cases I spend a lot of time thinking about what I’m going to write and thinking about who I’m writing for and why. I may sketch out an outline – but I always have an idea of what my story arc is and what points I want to hit.
Here, it’s more like starting with a writing prompt and seeing where it goes.
The other day I woke up thinking about Kim and I wanted to reach for her.
In the morning we’d be next to each other in bed, both of us awake but neither one ready to move and I’d reach over and put my hand on her forearm.
She’d reach over with her other hand and give my hand a squeeze.
We’d just hang like that for a bit, holding hands, smiling quietly.
Then the dog would notice we were awake and she’d stand up and shake herself and walk over to the door. If we still didn’t move, Anabelle would jump up on the bed and nudge Kim into action.
So after having that memory, I opened my laptop to write about touching Kim on the arm.
Instead I ended up writing about touching her arm in exactly the same way while she lay in her hospital bed.
I hadn’t consciously made the connection. I didn’t understand where that story came from and why I told it.
I started with the simple writing prompt of my hand on Kim’s arm and ended up in her hospital room instead of our bedroom.
Honestly, I hadn’t intended to tell this story just now.
I sat down to write about writing prompts because I received a writing prompt from the Garfield Heights Municipal Court to write a victim statement.
I’m also invited to deliver it in court but I don’t think I can.
The date is exactly two months since the last full day of Kim’s life.
I am invited to write or appear to address four issues. The first is “The effects of the crime upon you”.
I talked to Maggie about this last night. I said, “I don’t know where to start, mom was everything to me.”
Maggie said, “start there.”
So I’ll start there. I don’t know where to end.
It feels endless.
So I have this writing prompt: “The effects of the crime upon you”.