Alone

I am actually alone in my house right now. It's a very unusual occurence. Chick is still lying in bed, sleeping for two. I assume the pets have curled up with her. Two dogs and a cat and a mom with a tiny, little child inside of her. All of them dreaming together.

It is rare for me to write by hand. Almost all of my writing is typed directly into the computer, although that has not always been the case. In college I always wrote the first draft of whatever short story I was creating, by hand. That way I could look back to the thoughts I had crossed out. The Backspace key makes it to easy to erase what might have been an excellent idea, or even just a different way of saying something. As a matter of fact every sentence in this paragraph appears differently on the yellow pad of paper I used in the original writing. This particular sentence never existed on the yellow pad of paper.

In one way I am not sitting at the kitchen table alone. I am surrounded by hundreds of baseball players all on 2x3 cards. (3 boxes of 24 packs with 12 cards per pack - you do the math.) A-Rod is staring at me from the top of one of the boxes. Phil Garner is taking me out of the game with his hand extended outward for the ball. Guardado, as in 'Everyday' Eddie, is sticking out of a book I was just reading. It's a compilation of short stories. Written in Stone by Catherine Brady is about a relationship between a husband and wife who have recently been divorced. It's okay though, they remain good friends. And anyway, the story is much more about society and cultural constraints than it is about marriage.

I am finding some pain in my writing hand. It reminds me of the first week of a new school year. Having barely used a pen for an entire summer and jumping into hours of note-taking is hard on the fingers and wrist. At least this morning I can pause to rest. It's my story.

It is rare that I sit in this particular chair. I'm facing the back windows of our house that bring trees into our family room. Through the bare limbs of the trees, remnants of last weeks' snow storm can be seen on the hill. The snow will be gone in a few days but not likely for long. In front of the window our Christmas tree still stands. It will definitely be gone in a few days, if not sooner. But it will be the last time it stands in this house. Under the tree there are still many presents. All but one has been opened - a small gift for the lady next door who normally drops by on Christmas morning. She did not make it over this year, probably because of the snow. But it may be that because we are moving she doesn't feel the need to be neighborly. It's a shame too - I think she would have enjoyed the hard, ribbon candy.

I think I'm done with being alone for now. I'm going to head into the bedroom and see what everyone is dreaming about. Hopefully, it's all good.