I want to show you a little secret. It’s the hidden place I go to play. So far writing has proved to be a joy. Definitely feels like going to play. Remember when you were a kid and would tell your mom you were going outside to play. She might say, “Okay. be back in time for supper. Don’t forget to look both ways at the corner.” That’s just how I feel when I’m heading up to write. Up? Yes, but first come the fetching doors waiting for me to open them.
My trusty guards can go back to the window ledge. They’re off duty. My computer is just as I left it. Good job faithful sentries! Now I get to have more fun. I wonder what words will drift through my mind to come out my fingers onto the keys. I am especially fond of those times I get to take dictation, the days when my muse is in a really grand mood. Hey, maybe today!
My fingers tingle. Time to settle into my secret place. No one is home and if someone walked in the house, they’ll never find me. I shut the doors. My friends, the trees, welcome me from out my perfect dormer windows. I am a lucky duck.