grace

It’s not yet noon but I’ve clocked 11K steps…many of them earned by going up and down the back stairs as I clear out the apartment. Some things go in storage in the basement, some things get recycled, some things can’t be bagged and go straight into the dumpster. I didn’t sleep well on Thursday night but had a full day on Friday and so went to bed early to “catch up.” I always said I wouldn’t be that woman (my mother) who obsessed over calories and the number on the scale. I do count other things, though—like my steps, and think it’s important to know when I’ve been sitting in front of the computer all day and ought to take a walk. Yesterday I hopped on the treadmill while watching the news and didn’t meet my daily step goal but still stretched my legs. I worked in my office all day; it isn’t yet painted but has a functional layout and lots of plants and sunshine. The painter was working in the living room and that’s where my router is so wifi in that back office is spotty. Which helps, really—I definitely write more on the days when I’m forced to work offline. That will be part of my memory of this novel: having contractors in and out of the apartment, having stuff everywhere, having to find corners of order where I can focus and write. This morning I woke up early, as always, and dreaded all the things I knew needed to be done around the apartment. The painter’s doing other jobs next week so things are in limbo. Like the living room, the kitchen is mostly done so today I’m moving everything back in even though it looks so much better when the room is empty. I wanted a blank slate in that space and now I’ve got it, though the missing baseboards look ghastly. This morning I filled the gaps with steel wool to deter any critters and then taped up strips of white paper to serve as temporary baseboards. I know that says something about me…that I can’t bear to have anything mar the pristine whiteness of the kitchen. A friend from Toronto left a comment on IG noting that I seemed to handle upheaval with grace. I wish! I’ve been alternately grumpy and blue and too busy to fix a lot of small things. Why bother when the big glaring issues haven’t been fixed? But doing things makes me feel better so I got busy this morning. Mopped and vacuumed before heading out for a walk instead of hitting the farmers market. But then I took a new route and wound up at the market anyway! Bought loads of bread and soup and vegan sweet treats. My tiny fridge is now packed—the freezer, too. I’m grateful for this abundance—the full fridge, my full heart, even the sense of purpose that comes from this never-ending To Do list. I walked home with a full bag and the city was so quiet…the leaves still haven’t started to turn but I spotted one tree in Woodlawn that stood out because it wasn’t entirely green. I passed the statue at the end of the Midway Plaisance that I wrote into The Witch’s Apprentice. When I visited it last fall, a class of tiny kids was admiring the student memorial to Breonna Taylor. All the artwork is gone now but I preserved some of the kids’ messages in my novel and the photo of Breonna is still visible, even from a distance. No one knows the guy the statue is meant to honor (Thomas Garrigue Masaryk), but for now, at least, they recognize Breonna’s face and can #SayHerName. Been thinking lately of the opening lines of “Tintern Abbey” by Wordsworth: “Five years have passed, five summers, with the length/of five long winters…” How do we measure our lives? Daily steps and calories are easy to track but how do we know we’re making progress as people? I read an article last week that urged people not to over-identify with their job. Try meeting someone new without leading with what you do for a living. It’s hard! I identify as a writer, an educator, a Black feminist. What else should I say about myself—what else IS there to say? Some kind (or deluded) soul nominated me for the Astrid Lindgren Memorial Award, which I always thought of as a lifetime achievement type of prize. I haven’t spent my whole life writing for kids but it has been twenty years…and I’m ready to move on. But for now I’m focused on turning in The Enchanted Bridge before my birthday on Tuesday. On Friday I talked to a set of film producers about Dragons in a Bag and I’m talking to an animation director on Monday; I’m letting everyone know how disastrous the first film deal was and don’t intend to repeat that experience. Next month (which is just one week from now!) I will decide whether I want to find a structural engineer to help me plan the kitchen renovation. Right now, I’m satisfied with having a clean, functional space that isn’t pink! I can hear the sparrows chattering as they peck at the suet on the back porch and hopefully I’ll find a way to put a stool right in front of that window—another sunny place to daydream. Once this novel is done, I can spend more time outside of the apartment. Being here all day every day while contractors work can make me more anxious than I usually am. My birthday is Tuesday and I think I’m going to visit the Shedd Aquarium. I prefer a low-key celebration so will spend the day on my own and then meet up with friends later in the week. Edi drove out from IN on Thursday and it was SO nice to break bread with her again! She graciously looked past the chaos and only had kind things to say about my messy apartment. Because that’s what friends do—they look past your flaws and focus on the best parts of you. I’m going to try to do the same…with my home and myself.