From my journal, some time ago . . .
A writer’s mailbox is an important part of the writing life. My mailbox, while not empty seemed empty just the same, today, as it often does Tuesdays. I don’t know why that is. Of course, there were the usual pieces of mail– utility bills, advertisements, a letter from Jacques-Yves Cousteau asking me to join the Cousteau Society with money I don’t have.
I have a sweatshirt, a blue one with WRITERS OF THE FOOTHILLS monogrammed in gold across the back of it. Last week, I went with my sister, who had an appointment at the unemployment office and we stood in line waiting for the office to open. I was first in line, wearing the Writers of the Foothills sweatshirt and faded jeans. I felt that everyone was thinking that I must be a lousy writer, standing in line at the unemployment office. I even felt like an unemployed writer. I haven’t sold any writing lately.
The monogrammed shirt was a gift from my son, and it wasn’t my birthday or Mother’s Day, or anything. It was a sweet surprise and I love it. I’ll wear it with pride wherever I go. Even to the unemployment office with my sister.
© Freeda Baker Nichols