A Path to Here
Got a catalog from Tiffany’s in my stack of mail, today. I haven’t opened it yet. Don’t know if I will; a lot of memories are layered beneath that pale blue cover.
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The house is all nighttime quiet. Unwinding. Moments, blurring. Halloween is packed in the attic. Thanksgiving is in the next room. A new year is just down the hall. Days seem to be skipping ahead. It all feels so close in actuality — and so far in memory. The path leading to this place has vanished.
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Blue. It has been a very long time.
I bought a little app for my iPhone. It is called, “My Writing Nook”. Basically, it is a minuscule word processor. It lets you assign colors to the files you create. I haven’t used it since I purchased it. Until today, that is. Sitting in the break room at work, I typed my first bit of fiction in ages. It sat there blankly, like a chair in an empty room. One sentence.
I wrote another one, tonight.
That brings back memories, too.