Summer – she’s knocking on my front door, beckoning me outside. “Go to the pool, escape into your thoughts and stories while you mow the lawn, play baseball outside,” she smiles, her face luminescent and sparkling.
She’s certainly convincing.
Meanwhile, my familiar desk is moaning and groaning under the weight of papers, deadlines, and handwritten notes. All reminders of the invoices I need to sort, the books I’m currently writing (yes, plural!), and the social media updates I need to post.
The doorbell rings. Now Summer invites me to a BBQ – “Turkey burgers and lite beer,” she croons. My favorites. She knows me so well.
Back to work. The cool, air conditioned office is refreshing after encountering Summer’s heat. An iced latte helps me prioritize and focus. I’m in a groove, my story is coming alive.
Knock-knock. Summer’s back. “Cotton candy.” She’s wicked. All good friends know their friend’s Achilles heel. Mine is candy. She describes the rides at the nearby theme park, the thrills awaiting me, the fireworks that will light up the sky later that evening.
So tempting – but my story was really coming together.
“Another night,” I promise her, my gut wrenching at the disappointment etched on her vibrant face. The theme park will be open all season.
As I ease into my leather, swivel chair, the cursor flashes, grateful for the words I eagerly begin typing.