Technically the summer’s been over for a few weeks now; I just haven’t wanted to admit it. I ignored Labor Day. I overlooked the crisp apples at the local farmer’s market. I pressed past the aisles full of Halloween candy.
But on Saturday it was only in the 60’s. It’s hard to pretend it’s still summer while curled under a blanket wearing a fleece.
But how can it be over? (I say this despite having completed my 9th day of school).
LUCKY MIA‘s over too… at least this stage of it. And that’s a hard truth to accept. I still wake up with words on my fingertips and itch to insert self-indulgent chapters to the MS. I hear songs and add them to Mia’s soundtrack. I miss the story. I miss the characters. I spent more time with them than anyone else this summer.
And how can it be over? (I say this despite the kitchen dance party that commenced when I read The End for the final time).
I’ll give up summer. I’ll even accept that MIA doesn’t need an epilogue. But I’m not giving up my FEARLESS. The challenges I created and accepted this summer changed me. The never-back-down, what’s-the-worst-that-could-happen?, scared-is-not-an-acceptable-excuse attitude I adopted still doesn’t sit comfortably over my inclination to flee and retreat. But I don’t care. I owe myself more than that.
On Saturday night, as I shivered in my fleece and sipped spiced cider, I took a deep breath and erased MIA from the whiteboard walls of the NTB.
I studied them all night, finally falling asleep beneath walls that mocked me with their emptiness.
And I woke with new, nervous words on my fingertips. My first marker strokes were tentative, made of shaky letters and timid bullet points.
But it’s a whiteboard, mistake and changes wipe away with the swipe of a dusting cloth.
By mid-afternoon the wall looked like this.
And that fear and doubt? Replaced by hope and inspiration.
Who’s up for FEARLESS FALL?