Photo credit: Tom (analogicus) on Pixabay

So close to the end, and I missed a day. Day 12 of fourteen days. I didn’t write yesterday (except a few notes and a bunch of work stuff, which doesn’t count), but that’s okay, because . . . life.

This week has been busy: three doctor appointments for me and one for Ned, plus non-medical appointments and a long-awaited show at a local theater last night. Plus several work deadlines. Plus, of course, #1000wordsofsummer 2023.

It’s not just my own appointments that have consumed time, though. Other people’s lives have bumped up against mine, reminding me to be grateful even in the chaos. One friend (I’ll call her Susan) told me last week that she’s experiencing a recurrence of breast cancer thirteen years after she was declared cancer-free—different breast, same cancer. Another friend (let’s call her Emily) went for a simple outpatient procedure that turned out to be anything but simple, with complications ranging from infection and a stint in ICU to her bowel literally exploding. At this writing, she’s been in the hospital for a month, and she has no idea when she’ll get out.

And then there’s the friend I called last night (we’ll call her Jeanne). My plan was to chat for a bit before I wrote, but that plan took a hard left thirty seconds into the conversation. Jeanne and her husband have been happily planning their big anniversary party—all the kids are flying in, a hall has been rented, a caterer has been booked—a big celebration taking place in just over two weeks. Sounds fabulous, right? Except two days ago, Jeanne’s niece—a lovely, caring woman in her forties—died for no apparent reason. When something like this happens, the law in her state requires an autopsy, which delays the funeral and other issues. Bottom line: Jeanne estimates that there’s a 60/40 chance that—for good and legitimate reasons—the funeral is going to end up being on the same day as the anniversary party.

I suppose I could have written when I got off the phone, essentially reenacting the other night when I started at 2:00 a.m. This time, though, I made a difference choice. Armed with knowledge of today’s schedule—I’d have to be up in time to drive the half-hour for Ned’s chemo appointment, work on another project for a client who wants it today, go to my first appointment with my new eye doctor (which I’ve been looking forward to since I desperately need new glasses), and return to work—I decided it was more important to go to bed at a marginally reasonable hour. So I did.

What does that mean to the challenge? Simply that I’m a day behind. I’ll finish on Saturday rather than Friday—but I will finish.

There was a time when missing a day would have been enough to kill the whole thing. One thing I’ve learned, however, is that it’s okay to disrupt a routine occasionally, especially for sound reasons. So tonight, I’ll pick up the notes I made yesterday when I had a brilliant idea about how to solve a plotting problem, and I’ll craft those notes into 1,000 words—and then I’ll continue.

Because life happens, but so does writing.