Waiting to Arrive~
When I was in the second grade I stepped out of a bookmobile carrying Roald Dahl’s James and a Giant Peach. As I descended the two steps to the sidewalk I opened the book and began reading, and by the time I closed it a few weeks later I knew I wanted to be a writer. That dream has been a long time coming. As I grew I’d envision myself as I’d seen famous writer’s depicted: solemn loners in misshaped hats surrounded by books and pipe smoke, with bright sunlight flooding their desks. So while I waited for that day to come I bought books, lined my walls with stacks of them, read them, loved them, and anticipated my name to appear alongside theirs on a bookshelf. Then life kicked me in the teeth with a nasty divorce and two sibling deaths, only to have my heart resurrected by a serendipitous meeting with a woman who became the love of my life and the mother to my children. Eventually I had a successful career as a hairstylist, …show more content…
I’m in and out of hospitals with my son, and wear the hat of chauffeur, cook and friend. We’ve traveled together, go to thrift stores to find old books and drink Starbucks whenever possible. He’s in college studying to be a screenwriter, while my guest room has been turned into my writing room. It’s there, beneath a print of Vincent van Gogh’s Starry Night, two autographed posters of Al Stewart and a beautiful autographed print of Ray Harryhausen’s most popular creatures that I’ve made peace with the waiting. My desk is filled with sunlight in the morning, I wear hats to cover my receding hairline and am surrounded by hundreds of books. I’m not a smoker but my wife thinks I’d look good with a pipe. A shelf on my desk is lined with fifteen notebooks containing the 100,000 words of my current book. Regardless of what’s been put on your plate there will always be something to be grateful for at the end of the long wait. Find it. See it. Smell it, and yes, taste just how good it really
When I was in the second grade I stepped out of a bookmobile carrying Roald Dahl’s James and a Giant Peach. As I descended the two steps to the sidewalk I opened the book and began reading, and by the time I closed it a few weeks later I knew I wanted to be a writer. That dream has been a long time coming. As I grew I’d envision myself as I’d seen famous writer’s depicted: solemn loners in misshaped hats surrounded by books and pipe smoke, with bright sunlight flooding their desks. So while I waited for that day to come I bought books, lined my walls with stacks of them, read them, loved them, and anticipated my name to appear alongside theirs on a bookshelf. Then life kicked me in the teeth with a nasty divorce and two sibling deaths, only to have my heart resurrected by a serendipitous meeting with a woman who became the love of my life and the mother to my children. Eventually I had a successful career as a hairstylist, …show more content…
I’m in and out of hospitals with my son, and wear the hat of chauffeur, cook and friend. We’ve traveled together, go to thrift stores to find old books and drink Starbucks whenever possible. He’s in college studying to be a screenwriter, while my guest room has been turned into my writing room. It’s there, beneath a print of Vincent van Gogh’s Starry Night, two autographed posters of Al Stewart and a beautiful autographed print of Ray Harryhausen’s most popular creatures that I’ve made peace with the waiting. My desk is filled with sunlight in the morning, I wear hats to cover my receding hairline and am surrounded by hundreds of books. I’m not a smoker but my wife thinks I’d look good with a pipe. A shelf on my desk is lined with fifteen notebooks containing the 100,000 words of my current book. Regardless of what’s been put on your plate there will always be something to be grateful for at the end of the long wait. Find it. See it. Smell it, and yes, taste just how good it really