The Joy of a Blank Page

Way back in my college days at ECU, a blank page terrified me. The infamous Writer's Block kept me up more nights than I care to mention. Or you know, there was that whole "waiting until the last minute to complete the assignment" thing that may have attributed to aforementioned Writer's Block, but I digress. I dreaded hearing from my professor that we needed "x" amount of words, double spaced on "x" amount of pages. I clearly remember thinking no one and I mean no one wants to read that much about Emily Dickinson and my interpretation of "465 :I heard a Fly buzz - when I died -". Much later I learned my English professors were very fond of wine. I like to think I contributed to their discriminating taste, but again, I digress. I was terrified of not being able to fill those pages with intelligible and persuasive arguments supporting my take on any written assignment. But I do have a diploma, so I guess I did OK filling up the blank page.
This year, I am looking at another blank page, but in a whole different light. Both of our children will be enrolled in school full-time, I have no occupation, I am not volunteering on a committee, a group or a neighborhood board, I am not a gym rat, I am not socially driven, and well, truth be told, after September 6th, my calendar has no writing on any dates other than birthday reminders. A totally blank page. People are curious: "Aren't you worried about not doing ANYTHING?". Well, I wouldn't say I'm not doing ANYTHING! I have a house to finish unpacking. I am sure I will pitch in from time to time at school functions. I will have coffee dates with friends. I have a garden that seriously needs my attention. I have junk drawers to organize. I have words in my head that need to be placed on paper. I have books to read. I have a hammock in my backyard that looks incredibly lonely. I have trails to discover and shops in Apex and Cary to browse through on a rainy day. I have music to play really, REALLY loud. And I have dance moves saved for my own private party in my living room. I have recipes dog-eared in magazines to try on my family. I have photos from decades that need to be sorted, labeled and gazed upon with fondness. I can have lunch with my husband! I can stroll through art museums and musty old book stores. I can try on really expensive clothes for a make believe trip and then decide, "Oh, well, not today.". I can have a glass of wine with lunch, just because. I can take a nap! I can rent my favorite movies and watch them in the middle of the day. I can miss my dogs. I can call my friends and family across the country and not hang up because a ruckus is occurring in the next room. I can visit my sister-in-law on her lunch break. I can surprise my niece at college (just kidding, cutie pie...but I could). Or the best part, I can do absolutely none of these things.That is the joy of a blank page. 
Today I walked into a coffee shop and noticed they had a help wanted sign. "I can be a barista!" I thought excitedly. One of my friends just landed a great part-time gig watching children once a day during the week. "Oooh, I could be a substitute teacher!". I picked up the Town of Cary class schedule and thought, "Ceramics! Pottery! Water Colors! Short Story Writing!". I thought about my interest in Yoga and thought, "I could be a certified Yoga instructor!". "Oh! I could write my novel!". And then I read an article about a woman who would be teaching people how to open their own cooking business out of their homes. "Oh! I could sell my hummus and guacamole!". "Oh! Oh! Oh! The possibilities!!!". And then I got really tired. And then I heard loud voices erupting downstairs. And I was off refereeing, again, as my possibility train was derailed until school starts.
And then I will find myself staring at a blank page, wondering how in the world I will fill in the white space for the next eight to nine months. You know, blank pages used to scare me but now, I find myself excited, nervous, giddy and joyful. I can't wait for the first smudge. I'm guessing I'll do OK on this assignment, too. So, tell me, what's on your page?