It doesn't help that the only notebook I have readily available has my toddler's scribblings in it which act as the Red Queen from The Manchurian Candidate and force me to regress into a babbling caretaker.
Today during our free-write time I wrote about my dad. Father's day is coming up and he has been on his mind. I didn't share it because it was too hard, but without this time I would still be carrying that around with me. So I am thankful for that.
I haven't had a chance to engage in this kind of writing for years so my brain is still in the process of readjusting to it. However, the fact that I am able to write more than yesterday where, if memory serves, I basically only wrote that my brain was mush and I was tired tells me that my brain is still capable of engaging in this crazy writing process--even if it takes a while to get back into the swing of things.