I have been composing lists all day. To do lists, grocery lists, do not forget lists. My most pressing list has been a packing list. My daughter is spending the night at my mother’s house tonight because my husband and I have a fundraising event at school. We got home too late yesterday for me to pack her things last night (ah the pros and cons of the 7:00 bedtime), so I have to pack when I get home today. I’ll leave school as soon as the last bell rings, drive home for 25 minutes, pack her up, drive the 30 minutes to my parents, 45 minutes home (ah, the joys of NY-NJ traffic), change my clothes and be at the event by 6:30. If I didn’t have my lists I don’t know how I would remember it all.
I almost forgot my Slice today, but it was on my list so I remembered it. It’s not a long slice, but it’s a rumination on the importance of writing for me. I write to understand myself and to preserve myself and to remind myself. My students brainstormed genres today for a multigenre writing piece they’re beginning this week, and they (and I) were amazed at all of the ways they can and do express themselves in writing. Passports, dating profiles, Google search histories . . . the list goes on and on. As I listed all of the ideas they were giving me, we quickly added “lists” to our . . . well . . . list. Just another way writing helps me make sense of the world!