Oh, so many scattered thoughts--none of them make a coherent "POST".
Bathroom breaks on a long road trip: aren't these a dreaded bane? You know it will be a mix of grunge, irritated gas station attendant, and the scramble to figure out if one is required to go IN and ask for a key or go around back and use a poorly labeled door, or go in and use a poorly labeled door....or what.
But we were on the road, and our destination was too far off to wait, so we stopped at a franchise gas station.
The bathroom was just NOT what I expected. It took me a moment to realize it, so different was it from any gas station bathroom I'd ever been in.
Someone had painted all the walls with a floral mural. Nothing professional, just a lot of swirls and and flourishes and a penchant for purple. A sweeping signature. Flowers everywhere, and even more color--an unexpected smile to an ordinary moment.
I am grateful for that maverick bathroom artist, though. In a strange way, she inspired me to keep trying with this blog. I had gotten discouraged, wondering if my life was consistently worth blogging about...
But blogging isn't professional publishing. I don't have a contract to write something that sells or I ought not try.
Maybe some other day that is a mix of grunge, irritation and scrambling, this post will be a reminder to bloom where we're planted, and make our own beauty. Even if, like bathroom girl, we are more eclectic and exuberant than talented.