Writing hasn’t been coming to me easy lately. The February funk has rolled right over into March. That’s not uncommon. Usually, it takes the coming of spring to shake me out of the blues. This is true even here in Florida, where the weather already feels spring-ish and has been for a few weeks.

I’m finding that, this year, I’m longing for things I no longer have. Here are three of them.

  • motivation
    I have lost all drive to do just about anything – except bake and cook. It’s really all I feel like doing. My writing progress has come to a standstill. I have little to no interest in exercising. I have become rather lumpish. I rarely go anywhere anymore, usually to the grocery store and back. Most days, I feel like I’m treading water, just barely keeping myself afloat.
  • Japan
    I’m homesick for Japan. I very much want to go back. I’m not sure if this is because the vast majority of my time in Japan was a happy time for me or if I’m rose-coloring it because I’m so unhappy now. I don’t think so. I miss so much about Japan, not just how happy I was. I miss the food, I miss the trains, I miss the toilets. I miss silly things like walking down to the 7-11 for an impromptu grocery run. I miss the mountains, whether shadowy in the distance or closed ’round in protection. I miss the nieghborhoods, the atmosphere. I miss the people. And I never thought I’d say it, but I miss Tokyo. And, yes, I miss things that are more reflections of the way I wish my life was now. I miss having my own place, even if it is tiny. I miss being able to walk where I need to go – or bicycle if it’s a little further away. I miss the friendliness of people. I miss security and stability. I miss the freedom to hope and dream as I please.
  • Lauren
    I miss nothing more than I miss my daughter. I won’t pretend that if I had her then everything else would be alright. It’s human nature to find discontent somewhere in life. But the simple fact is that things would be different, they way I want them to be. We’d still be in Japan, for one thing, living as a family instead of as refugees. And I would have my daughter, I would have Lauren as my motivation. I never imagined that my life would become defined by who I was as a mother, but without Lauren, I feel as though there is just a great nothingness in my life. A void that I can’t find my way around. It has taken away everything from me, this hole in my life where happiness used to be. And always, there lingers the knowledge that life isn’t supposed to be this way, that things should be different. That I could have made them different, if only I’d listened to myself and my body.

I’ve never liked to dwell on the past, to hang on to what has passed and never will be again – but I’ve been unable to do that. I want to erase the past six months and go back to when I was happy, when I anticipated the future gladly. Oh, I hated being pregnant, but I loved my daughter, the baby inside me, my constant companion. Of all the things I miss, it’s her presence that haunts me the most. I still feel phantom kicks. My body has not yet lost the memory of what it felt like to have her inside me. I miss that. I miss the way our lives were to intertwine. I miss the family we were supposed to be. I miss her.