Short Stories From 10 Years Ago – May 31, 2004
I Can’t Quite Believe It
Short Stories From 10 Years Ago – May 31, 2004 – It’s the last day of May and I’m sitting down at my computer, late afternoon, to compose Story #153. I’ve written every day since December 31, 2003 (February was a leap year). Does this mean I’m a writer? I tell myself “no”. Am I simply a trespasser in the hallowed halls of authordom. Am I an imposter? I can’t answer these questions.
-m busy with this endeavour, but only Jackie has actually seen my scribblings and Big has heard a few stories during our late night yack sessions.
Their sisterly support is wonderful and appreciated far more than they know. But their reactions don’t provide a literary appraisal of my efforts. Besides good friends are seldom harsh critics. I should just present these pages to someone who doesn’t like me – that would give me an answer fairly quickly.
So far, I’ve told myself that I don’t care if this is any good. But I confess – the more I write the more I want it to have some merit. (A black ant has just crawled up my computer screen and I wonder if that is an omen). If my writing never reaches book form, I will still have this bundle of papers. They are from me, my creation. My soul moved me and I took a bold step one day and did something I was afraid to do – I wrote what was in my heart and mind.
The black ant is back. He’s very determined. Exploring every aspect of my monitor. Perhaps, like a moth, he’s drawn to the light. He’s totally unafraid, curious and very agile. He can climb up and down the sheer surface of my computer screen, and using only his two back legs, hang off the side as he tests the air with his feelers. I wonder how he got this far away from the ant colony and what his job is – maybe a scout or a forager. Is he hungry? Does he sleep at night? I wonder how long he will live and suddenly I’m filled with a certain awe for this tiny insect.
He just “is” – he’s out in the world – doing his best – not complaining – marching forward. I take some inspiration from him. If there are no coincidences – maybe this ant was sent by my Guardian Angel to tell me to just keep moving forward – to stick with these daily missives.
The ant is gone. In his place, Ziggy has appeared – all attitude and misery to complain that it’s time for his dinner. Augie will be along soon. Come to think of it, I’m hungry too. It’s eight o’clock. This Monday has been dull, soaked with spring showers. The hours are ticking down to the end of the day. I feel strangely at peace.
I’m going to keep moving ahead with my life. I need to do more than my career in real estate and I am. The ant has come back – I’ve named him Henry – Ziggy has seen him – I need to intervene – my muse is in imminent danger. Tomorrow is June and the creative door remains wide open. I will return.
