My mom called me a week ago to tell me about a last-minute family reunion in Covington, Tennessee.

I had no intention of going.

My grandmother and her siblings grew up in Tennessee. Granny found her way to St. Louis, while four of her sisters remained and raised families in and around their hometown.

Brighton, Covington, Munford. At least six generations of my family have occupied Tipton County.

I spent a childhood of Easters, summer weekends and Thanksgiving holidays in Tennessee. Back then, I couldn’t wait to get there. There were plenty of children my age within a family that large. LD and V taught me to ride a bike. RF taught me how to stand up for myself. VK showed me how to throw a punch. My cousin D, who was closer to my mom’s age, always reminded me that life’s possibilities were limited only by my imagination.

In Tennessee, pecan trees were in nearly every backyard. I spent a portion of those visits filling paper bags to the brim. Covington was home to the Charms candy factory; D worked there. She would give me enough Charms and Blow Pops to last for months. Today, whenever I eat a Charms, I think of D, my aunt’s porch swing, Fourth of July sparklers, and the ankle-to-knee scrape I got minutes before my first solo bike ride.

As my cousins and I grew older, our interests diverged. The shrinking common ground made the visits less whimsical. My immediate family grew in number, so it was difficult to stay with relatives. Hotel options were nonexistent at the time. Plus, the aunt with whom my mother was closest passed away. Seasonal visits were reduced to once a year and then eventually to none at all. That was nearly 20 years ago.

Momma kept in touch with a few of her cousins. The headlines were dramatic. Person A quit school. Person B died. Person C was in trouble with law. Every report my mother gave had more bad news than good. It made me tired.

So when she asked if I was going to take the five-hour trip with her and Daddy, I hesitated. I explained I was worried about Lil Ma, who restlessness during a family bus trip earlier this summer nearly killed me.

“I think she’ll be ok.” Momma said. “I know they’d all be happy to see you.”

I reluctantly agreed.

The car ride went better than expected. Barney & Friends was a lifesaver. As were nearing the destination, Daddy said a friend suggested we visit the Alex Haley museum. Haley’s 1976 novel, Roots, traced his family history from Gambia to America. He was inspired by the stories of ancestors he learned from his grandmother and her sisters.  A portion of the museum visit included a tour of his childhood home. As I stood on the porch where Haley sat with his family and listened to those stories, I realized this trip was long overdue.

A couple of hours later, we pulled into my cousin’s home in Brighton. For every familiar face, there were three I didn’t recognize. As they introduced themselves, I found the family resemblances. S has his mother’s eyes. L reminded me of her aunt, a cousin my age who passed away tragically a few years ago. RK has children and grandchildren now. They are snapshots of the same person at different moments in time.

Another cousin walked up, called me by my childhood nickname and hugged me like he had seen me last week. He introduced me to his wife. We talked about work and kids. His mom, my mother’s first cousin, poured a glass of Moscato and promised to dance if someone played “Blurred Lines.” The ground that seemed so uncommon the day before turned out not to be so uncommon after all.

We left town with a promise to stay in better touch. Mom’s first cousins said they’d visit us next time. We’ve heard this occasionally over the years, but I believe they’ll follow through. And even if they don’t, we’ll be back their way. Staying connected is too important to neglect.

*Curtain rises. Spotlight shines on woman standing center stage. She taps handheld mic.*

Thirty-one days. Thirty-one posts.
Hell yeah!!

*Drops mic. Exits stage left.*

I initially wanted to end the #31writenow challenge this way because I’m temporarily blogged out. However, the Kiss-My-Ass Exit makes it seem as though this was a waste of time.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

I started this challenge so I could get back in touch with my writing and creativity. Compiling original content daily for a month taxed my right brain. And I enjoyed it. I remembered how much I love writing. I also remembered I’m pretty good at it.

August rebooted the romance writing and I once shared, and I dedicated a lot of time to make it work. Like with any new romance, we went through the all-in phase. Most of my free moments were spent developing posts.

I hadn’t considered the side effect. Spending so much time on my blog caused me to let other things slide. Now we’re past the honeymoon phase, and I need to figure out how to reasonably work writing into my life.

I’m excited about continuing this journey. I can’t say that writing and I are back to where we once were, but this was a great start.

What effect did #31writenow have on you?

I’m almost to the end of my post-a-day blog challenge, and I’ve run out of steam. I see myself as the sprinter who ran three-fourths of the race at top speed and forgot to save something for the finish.

This feeling has me thinking about balance. I’ve poured so much energy into my blog these past few weeks that I’ve let other things slide. Grocery trips have been unsuccessful because I can’t seem to draft a good list. I have a stack of clothes from Mini Me that need mending. My yoga game is off. The plants on my front porch also can attest to my lack of attention.

I’ve decided to dedicate September to balance. My blog content won’t be as plentiful, but I want to feel more focused. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad I participated in the #31writenow challenge. It helped me connect with writing in a way that I haven’t in a long time. Now I need to work that rekindled relationship back into my life in a balanced way.