Summer Writing

Summer is slipping through my fingers, and quickly. I need to get outside with my coffee, book, and notebook and sit in the shade. I need to go swimming with the kids. I need to take them on a walk in the woods and look at trees, plants, animals, and talk about what we see. I need to take more pictures. I need to dust off my bike. Ride fast, and far, alone, listening to my mp3 player. I need to make a life-changing decision.

I haven't written anything for a while other than articles for the paper, and I can feel things building up inside me. Saturday was the big celebration in town. We were at the park and it was madness; there were people everywhere. The boys were in line to get a milkshake and I was pushing Grace on the swing. I saw her -- the old friend of mine from sixth grade. The friendship was short, but intense. It ended badly. She was sitting at her grandma's house across the street from the park, talking to someone, smiling. I looked at her until she looked across the street at me, then I turned away.

Looking at that house one day about five years ago, the inspiration for my book came to me like an explosion. I saw the dog sitting there, a Dalmatian named Missy. How strange that after all these years, I would end up living in the same town as her grandparents, that I would talk to these people and pet their dog, and it would end up being her family? The story unfolded in my brain like a flower opening in the sun. For a moment I couldn't breathe.

I need to get outdoors now before the rain starts in again. I need to bring my notebook and write and write and write. I need to get some clothes on Grace because she is outside in her underwear, playing with the dog. (At least she has underwear on this time!)