An Inquiry of Place
Pairs of red lights blare in the afternoon sun. Though it’s at least 90 degrees out there, my body feels cool inside my Subaru Forester. The air conditioning does its best to tame the heat. A glance at the dial reveals the car’s shrug to my inquiry; Yes, the fan is full blast, and so is the AC—what else do you want from me? Red lights jerk my attention back to the road, probably where it should be anyway.
A robed clergyman hurries through the gated entrance, clutching a book to his chest. No points for guessing which one. His legs, spinning like an escaping Scooby Doo, take him through the flower patches and into the church. The church has a sign outside it which says, “Weight Watchers Meeting Tonight 6.30 pm.” But his visit is probably more business than leisure.
In my writing life I fight to cultivate a routine to make sure I get words written. I also try to squeeze words into every surprisingly spare moment.