Needing to Write

I've been going to a writers'/poetry evening once a month at our local library. It's been the only time that I have been doing any writing for almost a year now. When our children were young we would  go camping for several weeks each summer. As soon as we walked into the door of our home our son, Peter, would make a mad dash for the piano and play for hours. It was as though all this music had been building up inside his small frame, and he needed that piano to let it all come out.

In the same way, my fingers have found their way to this keyboard to release the words that have been accumulating in my writer's heart, breaking through the lethargy that has held me captive much of the past year. Already, in these few sentences, the resolve to write regularly has been taking on a semblance of commitment, and like Peter, who always felt better after that release, I, too, feel comforted by the act of finally putting some of those dammed up words to paper (to blog screen).