Mister plays quietly in the shade under our Dogwood tree. A cool breeze blows through his blonde hair. He looks up to watch the red-tipped leaves shiver. Soon it will be fall. I watch quietly from my seat at the bistro table. Inspired by the scene, I pick up my pencil and continue my story.
Sound like a fantasy? That’s because it is! That was my idea of what writing would be like before he arrived. Now the only time I hold a pencil is to write a grocery list.
What is taking up your time these days? Is it what you thought?