My son, a junior in high school, is in Spain this spring. He's been my muse for my latest WIP and I am struggling to write while he is gone. Now and then I get an email from him and I rely on these to get my writing on. But is has been a number of days since hour last exchange:
Son to me: "Mom, if all of you were to move here, it would be amazing. Not going to happen, but amazing none the less. I could easily live here for the
rest of my life."
Me: I'm assuming that you ARE NOT homesick.
Son: Not really, but I do miss you guys a lot. School is good. I'm behind
on one thing, but other than that, it's going good. At the
Museo Reina Sofia, the national modern art museum, I bought a mug with
the stats, title, and name of the artist, Salvador Dalí's, The Great
Me: . . .
Me: Dad bought your sister a MT bike. It's a TREK and its bright blue!
Son: Cool! We got some bikes to ride, so I am good there. Mario, the guy who owns
our gym, set up a workout session designed just for cycling, and I have
run a few times.
Me: SUPER! I saw pics of you guys riding. When are you supposed to write
your blog post? How are you getting on? Are you having fun?
Son: Whoa, the questions! JK. I dunno when I'm supposed to write it, but I dread the day. (I really don't wanna do it. I dunno why.)
Me: Sweet! Then you are doing fine! Love you much! lots of hugs from all of us.
Son: Right back atcha
I hope I hear from soon. Because I'm not sure I can actually pretend to be able to write like 17 year old boy without him.