today marked my sixth jaunt to new york city for a memoir writing class at gotham. typically the alarm sounds between five and six am, followed by stumbling toward the kitchen to feed my always-ready-to-eat furry sons, make tea, and sit down in front of the computer to do homework due that day. yep, i’m kimberly and i’m an occasional procrastinator.

next i dress in TranquiliT togs, splash on face oil, don red lips with a hint of waterproof mascara, and off to the metro i go. it’s a direct route to union station where my bus is waiting to whisk me {and dozens others} off to an adventure in new york city. the round-trip cost is typically less than the lincoln tunnel toll and i’m granted nine hours total to write, read, and reflect. or gaze out the window. a skill i’ve gotten quite good at thanks to last fall’s tranquility tour.

when i arrive in new york i have a little more than an hour to eat, saunter a few blocks to class, and pick up a soy chai latte en route if i’m feeling overly indulgent. i consume the three-hour class like a favorite candy. wanting more and more of it and never feeling like there is enough. 

afterwards i grab veggie sushi to-go and stroll to the bus pick-up blocks away for my return jaunt to dc. on the ride home i do more writing, reading, and reflecting before arriving home around 11pm eager to crawl under the covers.

although i’m still exploring the major dramatic question and overall theme of my memoir, having one day weekly to focus on the craft has been a gift. there are four classes left and i may extend my stay into the evening so that i can enjoy a yoga class, vegan meal with friends, or sit in a crowded cafe to write and people watch.

my hope is that i’m planting seeds. seeds that deepen my writing and help me unearth my story. ultimately a story that encourages others to plant, water, and grow seeds. that, dear readers, could offer well-being far and wide. bisous. x