finding time to write | Life in the Realm of Fantasy

Technically, I am a full-time writer. For about ten years after I retired from corporate America, I had regular office hours for writing, and very little interfered with it. Nothing lasts forever, and once again, I am drawing on the habits I developed during my years as a hobbyist.

While I’m rarely in the right headspace to do a long stint of writing new words, I manage to fit short bursts of writing into my day, no matter what is on the calendar.

When I was still working, I sometimes wrote during breaks or at lunch. Other days, I was able to dedicate a block of time for writing by rising two hours before I had to depart for work. But waking up that early was tough, so I frequently wrote after the dishes were done and the house was clean. If I skipped watching TV, I could get a whole scene on paper.

Nowadays, I arrange my writing time around whatever the calendar says is scheduled. I usually have all afternoon to devote to it, but some days are less productive than I wish. However, I always manage to get something done. Even though the advancement is slow, I’m creeping toward the finish line.

A happy life is all about balance, which is sometimes hard to find.

I’ve mentioned before that sometimes life is like a blended margarita. It’s a slurry of everything all at once, and here at Casa del Jasperson, things are usually in a whirl or at a dead halt. Sometimes finding my creative muse among the chaos is difficult, and other times it won’t be silent.

If you are a regular here at Life in the Realm of Fantasy, you know my husband is in the late stages of Parkinson’s. He is now in an Adult Family Home, and every morning I go to visit him. That is the one thing that happens every day without fail. All my appointments are scheduled around that morning visit.

Setting him up in a care facility was a difficult decision, as I felt caring for him was my job, my responsibility. But his decline has been exceedingly rapid. He is unable to stand without two people assisting him as he can’t transfer himself from wheelchair to bed, and is unable to reliably communicate his needs. He can no longer write, use his cellphone, or use the computer.

In May, I had to face the reality I had put off for as long as I could: my husband was no longer safe in our home. He had fallen twice and developed a blood clot in his left leg.

I had help from a Senior Living professional in finding the right place for him. We found a lovely home fifteen minutes away from my apartment, just down the road from the house I grew up in.

The home is owned and operated by two registered nurses, with two licensed CNAs (certified nursing assistants) on duty around the clock. He has his own room, the kind of food he likes, and company. Currently, there are only three residents, but the maximum capacity is six, with each resident having a private room.

They have daily activities, games, and physical therapy. Best of all is the lovely, peaceful deck where residents can take their wheelchairs to sit. He and I often sit out there absorbing the serenity of the back garden. The ongoing squabbles and dramas among the squirrels and many birds keep us both entertained.

So, things have settled into a routine here. I have more free time, which allows me to participate in my writing group and engage in write-ins with the larger writing community. I have time to mentor new authors and can enjoy the occasional lunch with friends.

Writing posts for this blog and the community of friends I have found here has been the one constant during a stretch of time when everything felt out of control. The plot in our community garden has been a surprisingly relaxing hobby. I have harvested strawberries, tomatoes, and onions. In the next few days, celery will be on the menu.

The lone pumpkin plant is taking over the world, and I will get six or seven pumpkins when all is said and done. They should be small, as they are the sugar pie variety, but when I planted it, I had no idea how big a single pumpkin plant would get.

I am so grateful for the blessings, the good things that stand out sharply against the not-so-good in life. I can still be with my husband for part of the day, and I have the freedom to do a few things that I was unable to do before.

Life is different, but it’s still good.

My annual visit to the sunless Oregon Coast is upon us. For the next week I’ll be reading and gazing out the window at the ghostly rocks of Tillamook Head rising from the mist. Terrible Tilly, the most infamous lighthouse on the West Coast rises a mile out to sea, but is shrouded in fog and mist–I can’t see her today. It is supposed to rain most of the week here–and that is what we come to this place for.

The many moods of the stormy waters, the seabirds–this place inspires me and clears my head like no other place.

I will be writing whenever the muse seizes me. Our condo is one we often stay at, and is perfect for us with a fully outfitted kitchen. I will cook many meals for my family, as being vegan, I can’t really eat in too many restaurants, although there are a few beginning to offer vegan options here.

As I write this at 06:15 a.m., the rain-slick streets are nearly empty, making this my town, my personal paradise. Despite the bad weather, people will soon be out, and it won’t be mine any more, but the hum and bustle of the streets brings a different vibe of excitement.

Walking along the beach in this sort of weather, one finds so many more things. The wave deposit sand dollars and the seabirds dine on them, leaving behind the hollowed shell for me.

I may not have the chance to fly my kite until later in the week, but then again, some years I find myself kite-flying in the fog. Rather like my normal life, I suppose–with so many stories whirling in my head I’m always in a fog, so to speak.

Sun or no, this is my writing and reading paradise. I have the opportunity to do both here, in undisputed peace. Today, my husband and I will stroll along the beach, or visit the small shops, or just chill on the deck, observing the sea in all her many moods.

This is my piece of Heaven. Have you found yours?