I used to think what got in the way of me and my writing was the family clutter that spilled into the sun room, which I had already claimed as my study. The dollhouse, the glitter, and extra pair of scissors that inevitably get left out. I recently cleared just an end of the room, and that's been helping. Physical space is important. One morning last week though, about an hour after I started working on revising an essay, I realized the bigger issue. She called out to me at 7:22am.
"Mom! Mom.Mom." Is was an incessant, albeit brief hum with a bit of demand mixed in.
1. Some nine-year-olds would go downstairs, prepare cereal, and watch cartoons.This nine year old doesn't watch cartoons.
2. Some Dad's would hear their child and go to see what they need. This Dad was the one to turn out the lights last night, because this Mom couldn't keep her eyes open.
I considered letting her know where I was, giving her the option to do something quietly in the green chair in my room. However, the calling out stopped. The guilt remained, but a healthy silence ensued. I clicked along productively...until I realized that I needed to get up for something. I panicked (mildly). Was my writing time over? I put off leaving the room, fearing that my gig was up. Finally, when I could wait no longer, I headed upstairs, tiptoeing past her bedroom. She saw me passing by and wore a shocked expression.
"Mama. I called out for you."
That morning I offered no explanation. "Yes."
As she looked at me, her hands didn't stop sorting markers. She had a basket out, as well as one of her desk drawers pulled out and placed on the floor. One of them was filled with strewn writing utensils. The other one was an orderly row of markers organized by color. She seemed content putting her things in order. By taking my own space, I had given her the gift of her own space as well.
In Yoga class last week, the teacher corrected me at least twice as I looked to see what Roy was doing and offered him comments and suggestions. "Stay in your own space, " she said.
At a class that I am taking, last month we spent the day reviewing our personality profiles, but we took time out for a boxed lunch at our tables, which were set up board room style. The guy next to me had been deemed task focused and orderly. Whereas, I had been deemed, well...spontaneous and communicative. Which means, I think that if you have to sit in a small room that you probably shouldn't sit next to me. We sat side my side, board room style.
As lunchtime came to an end, I noticed that despite the fact that I had cleared away the used food containers, I still had a lot of stuff I was struggling to fit into my little area. I looked at the space in front of the guy next to me. It was very tidy. A Pepsi, an ink pen, and a notebook lined up neatly.
I made a gesture, encompassing my items, so many of which I can't name them.
"I'm sorry. I guess I'm taking up a lot of room, aren't I?" I apologized.
He looked at me calmly and responded merely, "Yes."
I thought about my yoga teacher. I thought about Hannah in her room. And about me writing in mine. I thought about staying in my own space.
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