Blog 1: Ten minute writing exercise for Michael

My boyfriend told me to do this for my mental health

Two minutes have past and not a single thought to write down. Someone is violently running downstairs right now. I have to wonder what sense of urgency he feels to run so angrily around our home. I love how you can recognize the sounds of people by their footsteps. It was my favorite thing when I was younger, at first it was a game to guess but it eventually provided me with some sense of comfort knowing my mother’s gentle footsteps were coming upstairs (only in the evening) to put me and my sister to bed. She would stop first at my sister’s room, come up with a bedtime story and then venture to my room for what was usually a much shorter visit. My dad’s footsteps were pretty different, his flat feet don’t allow for the same peaceful steps my mom’s arches provided. A quick jog accompanied him as his feet pushed their way deeply into each and every step. Sometimes he’d come to our rooms, more often than my mother. Just to say hi. That’s a nice thing he’s never really let go of. He likes to know how we’re doing. When he didn’t come to our rooms, he ventured to his office where he would sit for hours just thinking about the work he really didn’t want to be doing. My sister holds a similar to fate to our dad, unfortunately we both inherited our dad’s flat feet, her’s being a wonder to the world. Her steps are light; she’s small. She would come say hi. Maybe ask to hang out with me and watch a show. Or she would run to her room, her only sanctuary I think. I don’t hear my family’s footsteps as often anymore. It makes me sad to think about and I guess I’m finding myself crying. That’s not really that unusual for me. I wonder how they would describe my footsteps. Did it excite them the same way theirs did for me? I miss walking down the stairs and my parents knowing it was me. Now I have to hear my angry roommate just stomping away. I recognize everyone’s footsteps in my house now, and it brings me some peace I think. At least some semblance of innocence I wish I could come back to.