I have been pulling, reaching, trying to grab some momentum that I have somehow lost. One thing that helped last week was going to writer's group. One of our prompts was, "If you were here..." which spawned some really emotional pieces from the group. I thought I'd share a bit of what I wrote...
Would the sun be out, if you were here? I st in the wooden chair at the end of the dock, a mug of earl grey in my hand. The water ripples as the wind blows across the lake. I see the empty chair on my right, out of the corner of my eye, but I try not to look at it. Instead, I watch the sky grow darker. Grey clouds thicken with rain, the wind throws the hair across my face. I tuck it behind my ear and take a sip of my tea. I feel the warmth travel down my throat into my chest and deeper still. I continue to sit, the water movie more quickly. I glance down and see nothing.
I chance a look back at the cottage. Wooden and beautiful, classic and modern. We decided what to restore, mostly the outside, and what to update, mostly the inside. I grasp the mug more tightly in my hands as I drink and lean back in my chair. I consider returning indoors, but the rain hasn't started. It's not like I have far to go if it does. If you were here, would have have made me go in by now?
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