Today is my daughter's preschool graduation. It is an end to one phase of life and a beginning of another, for both her and me. I am usually big at celebrations, big at memorializing in our lives the beginnings and ends. We are doing that today, but in the process I missed a big end in my own life.
Wednesday was my last day in what has become one of my favorite rituals this year: writing in the library.
I missed celebrating - or at least savoring - it. I almost didn't go. I was preparing for a host of women to descend upon my house for lunch yesterday, and I contemplated, for the first time all year, dropping my daughter off and preschool and just coming home to clean and cook. But I didn't. I kept my ritual and walked over to the library and sat down in my favorite chair to write.
And write I did. 1600 words. A significant amount for me in that two hours. It came so easily. It was the most fun writing I've had in a while. And it wasn't until the next day that I realized, that was my last day to write there, in that quiet haven. For the next three months all the kids will be home all day, and I will have to have a different plan to get the writing done. And next year, all the kids will be in elementary school, and I won't be near the library, and I will find a different place, a different schedule.
So today marks the end of an era for me, too. The one that led to writing every day, for two hours. One that saw me finish my first book, send out my first queries, get my first request for pages. All of that happened in the library quiet room. And it will sorely be missed.
Next year, there will be a new place, hopefully a new book finished, new queries.
In the meantime, summer looms, along with some great trips, lazy days at the pool, a tan I will half-heartedly pretend to fight in the name of skin cancer.
And much to celebrate.