Looking at the Horse

Days like this remind me of recovering from a nasty cold. Days when I'd been feeling so poorly for so long that I'd forgotten what it felt like to be "normal". Then at some point it occurs to me that I'm ok, doing just fine, my skin is mine again. Lately, I've been comfortable in my skin again, which is a good place to be. That's not to say that my eyes don't look at things differently, that my heart doesn't want to reach out less, but it's more about being in harmony - head and heart working together, friends once again.

Which makes me think I should start looking at the horse again. The horse, namely, is my novel. It's been set aside for about four weeks, and rightly so, but I'm wondering if it's time to give it a look-see. I keep thinking "I need to get back on the horse", except I didn't fall off it. Or off the wagon. Or any moving article. I simply put the horse in it's coral, letting hang out without me. But now my skin is mine again.

Maybe it's time to get reacquainted.

I don't know if I'll like what I have any more, I don't know if I'll want to approach things differently or not. Will it be like meeting an old boyfriend for coffee? Yes, we had fire, my novel and I. We had great times and times when we fought. Times when my thoughts were consumed by it, dreams were filled with it, and wrists ached from typing it. It's been work and play, passion and fuel for what has been called my "grumpy pants". I've thought about letting hang out alone forever, possibly letting rot. But you know, that seems cruel - to it and to me.

It's time to look at the horse...