We’re at that time of the year where we’re ankle deep or more, in snow; softer around the middle from Winter comfort foods and perhaps giving side eye to our New Year’s resolutions. (I much prefer monthly intentions, nowadays).
It’s about the time of year, where I am desperately looking for anything to get the muses going again. Last month I found it another writer. Not just in their book (which is a delight), but in meeting them in person and sharing a pot of tea, with my daughters.
Jalysa King is quiet, beautiful person, but with the brightest most genuine smile. Her warmth when we met, thoroughly made up for having to drive my two irritable girls around downtown looking for a parking spot. She sat with us, asked the girls questions about school, their friends, their interests and listened to their own fragmented and meandering stories. She gave them space to be 2 and 7 years old; completely alive in their own heads and dragging the rest of us along for company.
I’ve met other writers before. It’s always a hushed moment, as I try and think of something witty to say to a fellow wordsmith. It’s hard to find words fitting for someone who can create and weave worlds; conjure images and lineages; or sharpen my senses without me leaving the spot I’m curled up in. The magic of writers is what I got hooked on as a child, and why I slept with books under my pillow. They were like spell books; filled to the brim with wonder that I never wanted to let go.
Watching my own daughters whisper thank you when Jalysa signed their book was such a sacred moment of its own. They (at least my eldest) understood that she was meeting someone who was able pull something out of nothing and into this realm. She met the face behind the sentences she had read by flashlight and it was a moment of pure bliss and inspiration.
I maintain writing is one of the loneliest professions as you delve and mine, shape and build something that hopefully resonates with others. But when you get those times of connection and see little eyes light up; you know there is no other path you could or would have taken.
*‘When I grow up, I can be anything’ by Jalysa King