Some days the work seems futile. All my words and pictures—what do they amount to? The lawn is mowed, but I’ll need to mow again in less than a week. The house is clean, but soon the kids will be home to destroy it. And what am I doing to benefit the world beyond my household? It’s a question I should ask more often.
The long, hot days of summer are ahead. I’ll keep mowing the lawn, even when I don’t want to. I’ll have the kids help clean the house, occasionally. And first thing every morning, I’ll make a pot of coffee and go out on the porch to write. I’ll watch the words pile up like sand, making a small heap at first, then a dune, then a desert.
Maybe all these words will one day make a novel. Maybe you’ll read it someday. Maybe, in a small way, it will change the world for the better.
Amid the storms and heat of summer, the work is my oasis. I’ll keep writing.
Very much relate to this right now
As Don Draper says, in possibly the best scene in the entire series, "the carousel keeps on turning - around and around."
As long as the carousel keeps turning, keep writing. I love reading it!