One fine winter morning…

“I thought you were going to write” he questioned to her.

I am, she replied as she sipped her coffee pulling her knees tighter under her chin.  She watched the snowflakes fall unto the branch of the tree in front of the window.  She wondered how many more flakes the branch could take before it broke in two.

“Oh Really, that’s how you write?”, he tried to joke with her.

She just smiled, and sipped her coffee.  He would never understand.  He could never see how each snowflake fell differently.  How it’s crystals melted and merged with the flakes that had fallen before it.  He didn’t know how each snowflake had its own story, just waiting for someone to sit, watch, and write about it.

An early spring afternoon…

“I thought I was driving so you could write” he said as he looked over at her.  She smiled at him as she held her phone in front of her face.

“Oh let me guess” he rolled his eyes “you ARE writing!” he laughed at her.

She nodded, and asked him to pull the car over. “You see this old barn here?”

He nodded, “um yeah, we have driven past it twice a day for the last four days.”

“I know,” she said “it needs me to tell its story.”  She jumped out of the car and took pictures of the barn.  The story had already started to form itself in her mind.  She just needed the visual reminder, this was the last day she would be passing this barn.

“Thanks” she said to him as she jumped back in the car.  He shook his head smiling and drove on.

On an a steaming summer morning…

“Would you like to go on a hike with me?” he asked her.  She wasn’t sure and he could tell by the look on her face.  “Okay” she agreed.  He smiled “don’t forget your camera, you may want to do some writing.”  She smiled back, maybe he did understand.



2 thoughts on “Writing

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