Tuesday, March 1, 2011

An Anchor in the Day

Another Creative Writing assignment... the last for the class...

I scheduled Friday for an appointment away from work and used it as an excuse to stay out of the office all day. It gave me the chance to sleep in late and not rush out the door still bleary-eyed as I usually do.

The weather cooperated by summoning up a beautiful sunny, yet very blustery, day. I don’t mind the wind; I love the sound of my wind chimes clanging their unique song. And where other people look to the treetops in fear of when they might topple over, I become lost in the way their spindly arms dance and sway from side to side. As much as the ocean waves lull me to deep sleep, so does the sound of the wind rounding the corner of my house.

With time to spare before the appointment and an intense need to keep myself busy while I waited for Aaron to come home, I pulled my well-worn journal out and perched on the edge of the bed. Leaning closer to the nightstand, I reached out and snagged my favorite pen—or perhaps, pen of the moment—and let it slide into the familiar groove in my hand.

Comfortable… that’s exactly how I felt grasping a pen. Sometimes I have an overpowering urge to write, but nothing in my head to write about. So I grab a pen of assorted color and take note of the way the ink flows over the paper or the way the paper absorbs the ink. I keep going, writing nothing, scribbling anything, until my hand gets tired.

As I waited, I let my feelings about the morning and the impending appointment cascade in waves from my mind onto the paper. Soon the page was covered in neat, controlled purple strokes, reminding me of the beauty in a handwritten love note. Lost in the moment, I didn’t give consideration to words or sentence structure but realize the casual observer wouldn’t even have a passing interest in the content.

Suddenly, my concentration broke with the sound of my cell phone playing “Shameless” by Garth Brooks. Aaron was calling—perhaps he was nearby. I paused to take the call and heard Aaron’s voice on the other end, “I’m in the driveway. I’ve been down here for a few minutes.”

“Were you planning on staying down there much longer without telling me you were waiting?” I asked.

Begrudgingly, I capped the pen and put it back on the nightstand. I hated disruptions when I was trying to get my thoughts on paper, but this couldn’t be helped. I had an appointment that needed to be kept. One thing was certain however—after the meeting, I’d have more than enough to write about. I had better check my pen stock!

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