Originally Posted on March 28, 2021

I’ve been told, “Writers write.”

Write about the way your body collapses into bed and wakes up only to dream after a 17-hour day.

Write about the way tiny birds hop along the sidewalk, looking for croissant crumbs outside a local bakery by the marina.

Write about the way your mama’s smile forms when you show up at the front door of the house unexpectedly on a spring Saturday morning.

Write about the way a tear trickles down your cheek—unheard and unseen—as you stand among a crowd of strangers on the other side of the world.

Write about the way the music from the radio escapes out the window and blends in with the sounds of car engines, ocean waves, and sirens in the distance on a work night.

Write about the way you skip to the sea with a beach bag in hand and the smell of sunscreen on your skin without a cloud or clock in sight.

Write about the way the keyboard sounds as it clicks beneath your fingers and words appear on the screen before you, lighting up your face in a dark room.

Write about the way the doorbell sounds when the pizza is finally delivered on a Friday movie night with your sisters sitting on the couch and snow covering the porch.

Write about the photos you capture and the elevator acquaintances you make.

Write about your home, your travels, and your mundane days.

Write about these things.