How many words have slid off my keyboard this summer? Few. Fingers too wet.
Sweat dripping into my eyes. Back stiff from sleeping in a chair in a way too
cool room with AC set at the max. But in my unproductive writing mode has my
brain been on summer leave? Oh just see my long list of what I did this summer
and I won’t even be expected to write a back-to-school essay using that theme. I
read whole novels in a single sitting, even if I started at bedtime. I watered
the patio pots and garden, letting the leaky hose cool me from fingertip to
elbow. I stared at the Super Moon from eastern horizon rising to clouded
obscurity–enjoying the cricket chirp background and dampish cool. I proved
that with care and feeding, even I could grow a colossal tomato plant in a pot.
All summer I have studied closely, and in awe, the daily life of another happy
tabby. I’ve recorded piano pieces and my Author voice reading of kid’s picture
books. Having survived the heat, I’m once again thinking back to the keyboard.
And here I am. Writing.