FLOATING SHADOWS

FLOATING SHADOWS

I know you’re there.

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“What do you want now?” I asked curiously at the almost constant interruption.

My question, as usual, received no answer. I let it go.

A few hours later: “Oh, you’re back. Ready to talk?” Still no answer. I got back to my writing.

While I didn’t have the door to my home office completely closed, from the corner of my eye, I noticed it slowly opened a few inches more.

“Oh, come one, now! That’s so annoying,” I said as I stood and walked away from my desk. It was time for me to check on my husband who had only been released from the hospital the day before and was on bed rest. Seeing that he was sleeping peacefully, and his breathing was somewhat back to normal and assuring myself this his cellphone was on the table next to his side of the bed, I left the bedroom and decided to make myself a cup of tea.

Back at my desk, I set my cup off to the side where I was sure I wouldn’t knock it over. I noticed the papers on which I jotted my notes for my story were no longer in the disheveled stack I’d left them.

“Really?” I ask sarcastically to no one there. (Or is there?)

I sipped my tea and was about to reorganize my small stack of notes, when I had a sudden thought, which I loudly uttered, “Ok, let’s just assume you know the story and rearranged my notes for a reason. Let’s see what you’ve done. Oh, but I feel I should remind you that my notes are only notes at this stage of my story. I write them down according to how they pop into my head. They’re always being arranged differently as I type them into my computer, and even then, I edit and re-edit a few times more until I’m satisfied the story is to my liking. But, as I said, let’s see what you’ve done.”

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For most people, when they see spots, they head to their eye doctor for a diagnosis. More often than not, it’s nothing more serious than small clumps of collagen that break loose and “float” in front of the retina. They are commonly known as, you guess it, “floaters.” While many people see a few, there are more whose vision is impaired due to the number of floaters they see on a daily basis.

I have a few of these and for the most part, unless I concentrate, I hardly notice them. The ones to which I’m referring are much larger and more active than the ones that just float around my retina. These “floaters” move in a variety of directions and patters. I call them my “shadows.”

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“Oh, there you are! I’d thought you left,” I say sarcastically. No answer. Well, what did I expect? They’re only shadows. “Maybe one of these days, you’ll answer.” Yeah, right! I think.

I picked up the stack of papers that held the notes for one of my newer stories and began to read them in the order they had been placed – but not by me.

“Hmm. Not bad!” I said aloud and continued to read. “Wow! This is really good! I like it!”

I was impressed. Whoever rearranged my notes did a decent job. While true, I hadn’t taken the time to arrange them myself, I now felt that job was done for me.

You see, what I do when I write is jot down thoughts. Once I have my thoughts on bits of scrap paper, I’ll begin to put them in the computer. As I do this, I begin my first edit and rearrange my notes according to how I want the story to sound. My thoughts might take one hour to put together but then it might take one or two days to completely finalize. Time consuming? Probably. But I don’t have the luxury of sitting at my computer for hours on end like professional writers do. How I wish I did but my little four-lettered word (LIFE) often gets in the way.

I noticed that my teacup was empty. When did that happen? I’d been so busy writing, I never paid attention to how often I raised my cup and sipped.

With my papers arranged in an orderly manner, I decided to make another cup of tea and check on my husband.

“Hi, honey,” I said as I entered the bedroom, “glad to see you’re awake. It’s almost one in the afternoon. You must be starved. I’ll make you some lunch and I’ve already put the water on for tea.”

He replied, “I’m feeling a bit better, but can we hold off on lunch for about thirty minutes? What I’d really like is the tea you’re offering.”

“Not a problem, my dear. One cup of tea with honey, coming up.” I turned to leave the bedroom and walk back to the kitchen as he asked, “By the way. How’s your story coming along?”

“Much better than I anticipated. I’ll tell you about it when I bring the tea in.”

As I made my way to the whistling kettle, I laughed as I thought of my newly rearranged notes and how much easier it made my new story.

I almost said out loud, “Gives new meaning to the phrase ‘Ghost Writer’”.

I smiled and poured the water into the teacups.