Half asleep, she cooked up two eggs and some toast, poured herself a cup of coffee, black no sugar. I was twelve minutes and seventeen seconds (give or take) in to watching a twenty-one minute and thirty-two second (give or take) news clip. That was the type of attention I was paying. She, Anna, an old friend who had come to visit for two weeks (give or take) was having a rough time at home – marital woes. I’m not sure staying with me was going to improve the situation, but I’ve known her husband John for years, and I think, I hope, he trusts me. Anna was used to her morning routines – or so I’m assuming. She asked me questions as she cooked, added commentary to what I was watching which made me miss what I was watching. I think she was missing her morning chats with John. I wasn’t used to the company or anything but my own thoughts and whatever distractions I was leaning in to at the moment. When she finished her breakfast, she cleaned up and settled in to the spot on the sofa where I was going to curl up and read for a bit. I don’t have guests over all that often. I’ve been living alone with the two dogs and the cat for about four years, three months, and eight days (give or take). I cherish my weekend mornings – the slow crawl in to the day. Coffee, news, reading, slow walk through the field in to the woods and up the hill to the small rocky outcropping that peaks through the trees and gives a view of the thin valley below. I’ve created a space here that resembles those old coffee commercials – the best part of waking up.
Anna has been here for a little over three days, she arrived at 6:12pm (give or take) on Thursday night. I ordered Thai food, her favorite. For the most part, I’ve really enjoyed her company. I had forgotten what it was like to have someone else around. She and I go back about twenty years (nineteen years, 8 months, 22 days – give or take). We met at a book club that met on Tuesday nights in the Hoboken Public Library. She commuted in to NYC where she worked as an art designer at one of the big publishing houses (Random House, or Penguin or some sort). I was teaching a few business classes at Stevens. The book club thing didn’t last. Or more accurately, I didn’t last, I’m pretty sure the book club continued on. She met John two years later. We all used to hang out a lot. They lived in the same building on 9th and Madison just down the street from the high school. I was in a fairly modest apartment off of 2nd street facing Washington Park.
Writing about Richard last night, and re-reading what I wrote this morning, got me thinking about the actual practice of writing – constructing characters and settings and scenes. The practice of building off of real experiences, changing them a bit, adding details here and there. I started to think of how I might give myself some writing prompts – or if I was teaching writing, the in-class prompts I might assign. You’re in line at an ice cream parlor – describe one of the people also at the shop….
The above paragraphs about Anna, John, and the narrator were an attempt to transform a few real details in to something fictional and build a little tension (what’s going on with Anna’s marriage) and see if there’s a story to be told. I got distracted (laundry) and stopped, but I thought I’d add this “process” contextualization. My daughter Carolyn is staying with me for about a week. I was watching John Oliver when she woke up and came out to make breakfast. She totally talked over the video I was watching and then stole my seat on the sofa. Not a big deal, but it made me think about where I am in my life. I’ve grown accustomed to having the space to myself this past half-year. Will I find disruptions to my routine challenging in the future?
I’ve also realized that writing absolutely needs space and quiet. It is entirely too easy for me to lose my train of thought when, mid sentence, Carolyn shares one of her test questions, or an email she’s writing. How much of that would I hold on to in a serious relationship? And yes, it’s premature to give serious consideration to such a question… but I’ve never really worried about whether or not merging lifestyles will be a challenge – I was always pretty malleable.
… and so, even more time has passed as I’ve been writing. Time to just cut bait, hit publish, and focus on something else (an HR person got back to me, so it looks like I have an application to complete).