I am participating in my ninth Slice of Life Story Challenge run by the team behind the Two Writing Teachers website. We are challenged to write a blog post a day throughout the month of March.
I sat at the kitchen table as I do every morning, waiting for my coffee to brew and contemplating how to fill my morning page with words. Noticing floated to the top of my thoughts, and I started to write about
The amaryllis in bloom on my windowsill, blood-red against a gray sky, a dollar-store gift from a beloved neighbor who has since moved away. I texted her a picture of it yesterday.
Smaller lilies propped in a tall vase, lipstick-pink and blushing white, forming a canopy over the clutter on my dining table. Ever since my fortieth birthday, we have had fresh flowers in the house, mostly bought by my husband. That's been fifteen years of flowers.
The sounds of the clock on the wall ticking, the refrigerator humming, the birds chirping outside until I was writing that sentence, when they went eerily quiet.
Piles of get-to-it-later mail, mostly destined for the recycle bin.
The kalanchoe flowers, once bright orange, are fading and about to drop, sure to make a mess on the table.
A planner filled with tasks in colorful ink, shouting at me from the sidelines.
A bright green timer cube, nestled up to a brown owl mug filled with a rainbow of Inkjoy pens. Their ink does bring me joy.
My prescription glasses resting upside down on the green gingham oilcloth, unnecessary at close quarters.
My Wonder Woman Tervis cup. It brings me joy, too.
I am chilly in my pajamas, but know that if I put on my fuzzy blue robe, I'll be hot in ten minutes. Oh, the joys of post-menopausal thermal mis-regulation.
Stickers next to my planner, swag from an online conference. A barely-eaten tub of strawberry-flavored cotton candy and an almost-finished can of lemon-flavored mineral water, also swag. I wasn't fond of the latter.
My coffee is ready, and I am ready for my coffee. Time to write this Slice.
It's always amazing how posts find us IF we sit back and let them in!
ReplyDeleteRight? Just take the time to stop and smell...the lilies.
DeleteBeautiful descriptions! Thank you for inviting us into your kitchen this morning. :)
ReplyDeleteThanks for stopping by, Amanda!
DeleteI enjoyed your descriptions -- especially of all the flowers. Sometimes the best slices are those where we just stop and write about our immediate surroundings. Hope you enjoy your coffee.
ReplyDeleteOh, I live for my morning coffee and quiet time with the page, Erica. Taking a look around certainly made it easier to Slice today, that is for sure!
DeleteThis is so lovely, Chris, as I could imagine your scene as if I were sitting beside you, ready for my coffee too. You're right! When you know not what to write about, focus on the now: this moment, these images. Happy Saturday!
ReplyDeleteI'm glad you weren't really sitting there, Nawal, because I'd be embarrassed by the messiness of my table! (Those photos were carefully cropped...) I have so enjoyed your exquisite writing during this SOLSC!
Deleteoh all the flowering plants around you! A nice way to start the day. Enjoy your coffee!
ReplyDeleteIt's amazing how flowers just brighten up the place. I'm so glad my husband has carried on this practice.
DeleteI can imagine how much joy the flowers bring. And the pens and stickers. I wonder whether you know that "tervis" means health in Estonian.
ReplyDeleteTerje, I did not know that, and it will now be my learning nugget for today. I hope you are doing well during this latest lockdown there.
DeleteThe vivid detail that you're always able to convey so magnificently is testimony to what makes a writer - this depth of noticing. I feel like I live more deeply and meaningfully, being a writer. This one moment of noticing - while you and the coffee wait for one another - is still life of life itself. Clearly painted with gratitude. Beautiful.
ReplyDeleteFran, you are so right; if anything this month's challenge does, it makes me stop and notice and think a bit more than usual--and that's a good thing. I'm glad you could sense the gratitude in this piece; I am grateful for it all, even the clutter!
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