Inspiration

Waffles.

Hospitals.

Hummingbirds.

Lukewarm coffee.

The search for inspiration.

Dad is at the emergency room – again.  My mother has to be just exhausted.  I am.  This is their fourth trip to the ER in 2 weeks.

Last night, I drove an hour to a creativity class that didn’t let out till ten-ish, got in late and didn’t get much sleep.  Although my phone was set to awaken me at 5:40 this morning, the ring of an incoming call was not what I was expecting at 5:30.  It was Mom, and she told me not to come to the hospital.  She just wanted me to know what was going on.  So I rolled my bleary-eyed, sleep-deprived, fatigued body into the shower.  Be ready.  Just in case.

So here I sit, at my computer, ready – just in case, with an hour to kill before I go to work.

My body revolts against disruptions.  My stomach can’t decide to roll with it or against it, and I fear a terribly long day at work.  The temptation is to use one of my 2 ½ vacation days left to take the day off, but May 29, 2011 is a long time off, and I won’t generate new vacation days till then – my hire date.

Inspiration.  Oh yes.  That’s what I was searching for.

I went to art class last night. That is where the suggestion was made.  Look for inspiration.

Well, as I was driving home, darkness surrounding me, my mind more active in exhaustion than it is in morning refreshment, I saw inspiration everywhere.  I wondered why anyone had trouble finding it.  The smell of fermenting apples drifted past my nose, as I smelled the apple slices in the sandwich bag that I had brought along for snacking and a crunchy eye opener on the long drive home.  Apple beer? Is that what they smelled like?  Shrugging, I moved on.

The sky was like a black velvet backdrop, and the cool air moved heavily by with the threat of incoming rain.  Halloween sat in the distance and this night was setting the scene.

Fall.  Crunchy leaves and the sad farewell to summer outings and bathing suits.  But you wouldn’t catch me mourning.  Fall, so short-lived, is by far, my favorite season.

What is it about that changing weather, the changing leaves, the anticipation of – something….Most people resist change, yet I know many people that love fall.  Sometimes I feel that my eyes tire of bright summer days, and the energy it instills.  So when fall rolls around, my body lets go of some of the tension, and it is replaced by anticipation.  There’s that word again.  Yet I still don’t know what I am anticipating.

So looking for inspiration.  Again.  I find it in everything. I wonder how any canvas-based artist could not find something to inspire them.  Sometimes I walk down the street and think how awesome each crack in the sidewalk is, and if I were a photographer, I would have to photograph them.  Bugs, rocks, petals, leaves – all of nature makes me want to reach for the camera and capture the images.

I find inspiration everywhere, but as a writer, what kind of story does one tell with words that are not already obvious to everyone’s mind?  Cameras, colors and brushes seem much easier.  I suppose, though, that handed a pencil or a brush, my mind would lie down like a dirty dog outside the bathroom door, refusing to enter, as it hears the tub being filled with water.  Anticipation of going in would halt me in my tracks.

I look at quilt magazines, home decorating magazines, and they all inspire me.  There is never a time that I do not have some craft that I am working on, knitting in the mid stage, or a quilt in process – even if it is still only in my mind.

As a writer, I feel the words are like mice skittering across the paper, and I must trap them, grab them, before they find the hole in the wall and disappear forever.  Why is it that they, the most important things, seem to evade me?  Why is it that when my fingers lie upon the keys, and the trap is ready, those mice smell danger and never even show their faces?

Oh, inspiration, it is there.  I guess the problem is not finding it; it is capturing it, and then finding a use for it.

Post post update:

As I post this writing, my dad is home again.  I ended up going into the ER and bringing toast and coffee to my mother.  They found my dad had gone through “a little heart failure” that morning.  So he’s on a diuretic and oxygen now, and he is feeling a lot better.  Thanks for asking.  And thanks for all who held him in their hearts and continue to do so.

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Author: WriteAndQuilt

Hi, my name is Christine aka Chrissie, "E", Mom, Gramma and Lover (yes, that's what my husband calls me.) I fell in love with fabric and quilting when I was about 7. It's been my go-to for my sanity ever since. I love to write, too. So I sort of flop back and forth between the two crafts, and sometimes, I mix them together. Come share my journey, and I'd love to hear about yours!

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