Write is Might

"Ms Wonder, I've just had the most marvelous revelation. I'm sure I don't need to explain the true nature of life to you, so let me get right down to the nub," I said as she emerged from the garage with her arms full of boxes. 

Wonder's Photography sold to benefit Independent Animal Rescue

"Here, hold this," she said as she shoved one of the larger ones in my direction. It was disconcerting, it was diverting, and it certainly wasn't the response I was looking for.

"You could probably teach me a thing or two about life," I said, I hoped it help me avoid her attempt to derail my thoughts with those cardboard containers.

"Hold this," she repeated and I realized that I hadn't avoided anything. This time I responded by taking the box from her arms, but not with any real chirpiness.

"This box is empty," I said.

"Yes," she said. "I just now came from the Lighting Gallery," she said.

This got right past me. I felt a chill all along the dorsal fin. I live in fear that one day her perfect brain will come unhinged and I will be back where I started--standing on the shoulder of the road in the rain. Could this be the day I wondered?

"What gallery is that?" I asked.  

"I delivered some of my art prints to that lighting gallery on Highway 70 in Raleigh. I told you about it," she said. 

"Ah," I said. Not my best retort but I take pride in the fact that I do not mislead my audience and 'Ah' is just what I said.

"Still," I continued, in an attempt to get back on track, "I feel compelled to remind you that the foolishness we know as daily life sometimes comes slowly, and when it does come slowly, its impact is soft and gentle like the easy dawning of a Sunday morning."

"Easy like Sunday morning," she said. I don't know why. She just did. Just a whim do you think? I thought about asking her what she meant but realized, in the nick of time, that she was attempting to cherry-bomb my fruit punch again. She's done it before. Enjoys it, if you want my opinion.

"But it's been my experience," I continued, "that more often than not, life comes fast and strikes us squarely between the eyes, like the baseball you didn't keep your eye on. It's coming hard and fast like that this morning."

She gave me a searching look, at least I think that's what it was--searching. You know that look where the eyes move to the right and then to the left, scanning the map as it were. Gave me the feeling that perhaps I'd finally gotten her attention and that something good was coming. I was right. She let the boxes in her arms drop to the floor. I liked that. It was time, I reasoned, to begin weaving my web around her.

"There is much to do when your passion is writing," I said, and you surely know how good it felt to be talking about writing and not about lighting galleries. And if you're concerned that Ms. Wonder missed her day in the sun with art prints and whatnot, don't worry. We got back to that as soon as I had satisfied Princess Amy that the sky wasn't falling. If you haven't met Amy,  you'll want to ask one of the regulars to tell you about her.

Having gotten Ms. Wonder back on the topic of writing, I continued. "Oh sure, it looks easy. You're probably asking yourself, What's so hard about it? Where's the difficulty in putting a bunch of words together to make sentences and then group them into a paragraph or two? After all, Shakespeare did it with one hand tied behind his back and look at the drivel he sold."

"What a minute," she said. "Do you actually think that Shakespeare slapped onto the page anything that popped into his mind?"

"Please," I said. "Have you really read his stuff?" I waved my hand in the air. "All silliness and nonsense, if you ask me," I said, "but then what do you expect from someone who roamed the countryside stealing ducks?"

"Stealing ducks?" Her brow furrowed and then she asked, "Are you thinking of the stories about Shakespeare poaching deer in the Charlecote Park?"

"Let's not heap more coals on Shakespeare," I said and I thought it a pretty good comeback. "The supporters of the Earl of Oxford and Sir Francis Bacon do enough coal-heaping. No, let's talk about life and the fiend hiding in the bushes that we call Fate. The one that smacks us upside the head when we're looking the other way."

"What about it?" she said.

"What about it? Wonder, you amaze me! Do you know that more than half the time, when we aren't paying attention, our minds are wandering from pillar to post? Thoughts just rise up from the deep at random. It could be something from a Lovecraft story. Something about Thul-hu perhaps."

"Cthulhu," she said, which shot far over my head, again. 

"Ka-thoo-loo?" I said.

"That's right. Not pronounced the way you'd think."

"Thank God," I said. "But are you sure of the pronunciation?"

"Positive," she said.

"Do you know everything?" I asked.

She waved her hand in the air far more vigorously than the effort I made with mine. "And besides, I don't see a problem with daydreaming", she said. "Some researchers think it's therapeutic. And besides,  I think you're delusional."

"Not daydreaming," I said. "I'm talking about idle fretting and worrying that we fall into when we're not paying attention." 

But, truth to tell, I was beginning to get her drift that somehow, somewhere between there and here, I'd lost my way. But you know how it is when you find yourself in such a predicament, you have no choice but to soldier on and try to make some sense of it.

"Half the time we worry about the future or replay uncomfortable memories of the past," I said. "Fair warning, Ms. Wonder, idle minds are the enemy."

I thought that last remark might grab her attention but she only gave me another of her patented looks. This one was more serious than the last. Her eyes weren't actually rolling from earth to heaven but they were in a fine frenzy to find a comfortable spot to rest.

"Not buying it?" I said.

"Nope," she said. 

"I'm out of practice," I said.

"I'll give you an 'A' for effort," she said.

"Would it help my argument if I brought in something about Napoleon? Perhaps found a way to introduce Catherine the Great?"

"I think not," she said.

"Cocker Spaniels?" I asked. She shook her head.

"How about something with elves and dragons?" I said.

"Possibly," she said. "Elves and dragons would make it more interesting but I'm not sure it would strengthen the argument."

"Well, you would know," I said. "I'll work on it and get back to you. But it may take some time. I feel as though I need to start all over again."