One of my most precious eggs is rolling away.
That is OK. It is right. It is the fitting culmination (and simultaneous beginning, of course) of a huge creative endeavor.
It is amazing to me, how every finished creative work is the accumulation of so many, many small actions. Many of those actions are tedious–adding layer over layer of color, driving the car to a school, making dinner, putting a comma in and taking it out and putting it back in again. Cutting out a hundred tiny leaves.
And yet, there is a certain joy in them. There must be, or we wouldn’t persevere.
Tonight I join with a cast of amazing, talented women on a stage. There will be joy in the culmination, the celebration, the finished product. But no small part of it will be because–not in spite of–all the small actions each of us has taken to live and craft and share the stories we’ll be telling.
This truth, and my ability to live by it, is an egg I can keep within the walls of any shelter I might find or make.