There is magic in the dark mornings. The magic of a blank page, of something waiting to unfold. These days I walk to work as the run rises and I walk home as it sets. (Obviously I don’t do that during the summer months or I’d be at work nineteen hours. I don’t think even Americans are in the office that long.) I love walking into the sunrise. Every new day is another chance. A chance to make another decision, choose another path, go another way. Or to celebrate the decision you made, the path you took, the way you went. For the briefest of moments, the sunrise can make even the most unattractive settings look beautiful and peaceful.
These days I plan as I walk. I map out my plot, I see my characters come to life with every step. I imagine their dialogue, their conflicts, the ways their lives will write them. You wouldn’t know this if you passed by me. If you see me on the street, you’d probably just remember me as the woman in the pink boots belting out Hamilton lyrics.
The walk and the music is the best way for me to get up the energy for/wind down after another attempt to make my peace with Activity Based Seating. (Seriously, guys, it’s like high school. I wasn’t really that enamoured on high school and when did I become what amounts to an IT project manager?)
While it is an unbelievable rush to have my writing passion back and feel like myself again, it does make me look a lot harder at the choices I’ve made and the paths I’ve taken. Where am I compared to where I want to be? Is there a discrepancy? Apart from of course from the fact that I’d rather read and write all day than do anything else, but I can’t afford that. Walking gives perspective. The dark hides many thoughts and yields many answers. Once I figure out what the questions should be.
When I walk home the day folds back in on itself. The blank page is no longer blank. I turn the corner and look up at the window to find that my son has lit candles. Maybe he’ll make me a cup of tea.