Inspiration is Hard to Come By
Sitting at my laptop, trying to think of what to write. The boys are playing in the kitchen with the blocks. I'm taking advantage of the lull caused by their busy-ness. What to write, what to write? The boys thunder by from the kitchen door on my left to the living room on my right, "Let's go to the aparta-ment!" "Yeah! Let's go." They vanish through the living room door. The dust settles. The pictures sit slightly skewed on the wall. I continue my musing. The boys thunder by from right to left, "Let's built an aparta-ment!" "Yeah! Let's build one!" "With balconies!" They disappear into the kitchen. A plastic block falls off the end table, twirls, stops. The monitor on my laptop stops trembling. I resume pondering, scribble on the pad at my left. The boys thunder by from left to right. "We need some books for the aparta-ment!" "Yeah, and a pillow!" I grab my water bottle before it vibrates right off the table, tap my fingers along it gently as I look vaguely upward, seeking inspiration in the middle distance. The boys thunder by from right to left. "You can be the fireman!" "Yeah! And you can be the policeman!" "And I will be the garbageman!" The cat yowls as he's trampled underfoot, then stalks away upstairs, twitching with injured dignity. There's an idea in my mind, if I could only catch it. The boys thunder by from left to right. "We need the tools to fix it!" "Yeah! Let's get the tools!" "And some more books!" The violin on the bench beside me hums softly. A bib slip gently off the high chair tray and rustles onto the floor. The idea is there, it's coming, it's coming... The boys thunder by from right to left. "Maybe the elephant can do it!" "Yeah. Or a giraffe." "My gramma has giraffes on her coffee table!" A pencil rolls off the table, rattles on the floor. I pick it up and the idea slips away. I dunno. I just can't seem to get focussed today. Can't imagine why.