Wouldn't that be a nice warning sign to see? Creativity starts small, but as it gains speed it grows! As do the many avenues for its expression. For example, the idea for next month that came from joining someone in this little stretch of Feb.'s fab writing. It's rather simple, and anyone who happens to read these words and would like to try it with me... Please do! Do something you've never done before every day. It can be the most mundane thing in the world, or something as daring as skydiving should you get the chance. Then, write about it. Pure & simple... experience life! I'm a firm believer that our observation goes deeper when we're trying to learn from it, especially if we intend to share it with others. So, this way I'm intentionally becoming a sponge to the world. Will you join me?
Another thing of note - it's much easier to continue on when we have an audience, even better when we have compatriots walking with us. The encouragement it yields keeps you going! So basically I'm telling you I'm a little needy and I like to hear from you. If you happen to drop in and read what's here, please take a moment to leave a comment. Even just a hullo! It's nice to know that somebody's out there.
Pete wondered if anyone was really out there. I mean, really, really out there. He'd been pinging sights and sounds into the heavens for years with nothing to show for it. He squeezed the bridge of his nose tightly, and rubbed his eyes clear before pushing his wire frame glasses back in place. The screen hadn't changed, and the data had become predictable.
"It's time for a break."
Pete grabbed his scarf and coat and opened the door of the observatory. It was morning, brisk, cool, and silent. Sometime in the night, snow had fallen and the untouched white blanket covered everything. No sights, no sounds.
"Everyone must be in." He had worked through the night again he realized. His wife would be furious. His work of a lifetime was beginning to seem as pointless as others had told him it would be. He looked up again. "... but surely?"
He sighed. It was time to go home.
He walked home in the peaceful silence, surrounded by white, pillowy beauty. Undisturbed, untouched until his footsteps. He smiled to himself. "I'm breaking new ground." A moment's look over his shoulder, showed the single set of footprints behind him. "But," he added grimly, "is anyone following?"
He continued on, finally turning the corner into his neighborhood. The scuff of a shovel on pavement surprised him, and he looked up to see his 80 year old neighbor clearing the drive. The man astounded him with all he as capable of at his age. He just exuded life.
Pete looked at the man for a moment, then shook his head and started to walk on. Splat!
Cold trickled down his back from the snowball. "Wha?... Harry?" The old man was laughing hysterically his eyes a twinkle. Pete could read the challenge there. Something snapped in him, and before he knew it the two men were capering about tossing snowballs like elementary school boys.
Pete suddenly lost his footing on the drive and fell into the piled snow of Harry's yard out of breath and grinning from ear to ear. He found himself laughing along with the older man who'd sat down beside him. He lay there for a while, the two men looking up at the morning sky.
After a moment, he got up to leave. He couldn't help but smile. "Harry, thank you." The old man smiled in return. "And you, it's been too long." And he laughed again, "Oh, so long."
In that moment, Pete had an idea. "Wait here." he said before running across the street. He balled up a snowball and hurled it... Thump! against the window. Then another, and then another. Finally, a scowling woman that could only be his wife so rudely awakened peered out, but at the sight of him, and what a sight it must have been, she seemed to soften. His two kids joined her at the window and began laughing.
Pete threw his last snowball. Thump! against the window. A challenge daring them to come. Then he ran quickly to the other side and helped Harry to his feet.
"We must prepare," he cried happily. "There's life out there, and after that, I'm not sure it's going to be friendly."
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