It is 6:30 AM. It used to be that our house was silent this time of day. I’d get up and write while everyone else slept. I’d make coffee. Listen to the house creak. Listen to my pen scratch across the page in the quiet.
Now, our son, my husband, and myself are all up at 6 AM. We bump into each other in the kitchen while our son sleepwalks through toasting his waffles and packing his lunch, while I try to unload the dishwasher and make coffee, while my husband makes his tea and pours his cereal. Instead of silence I hear silverware clanking, toaster beeping, kettle whistling, refrigerator squeaking, our son singing to the kittens, the kittens meowing, and the trample of kitten feet as they race down the hardwood hall and slam into walls.
6 AM is not a quiet time anymore. Today I sat down in our cozy living room chair to write, but with all the activity, I knew I’d not be able to concentrate.
For the first time since me moved into our new house, for the first time since I painted my key lime
studio office, I am writing in a room of my own. Until today, the café table in my office served as a horizontal surface for accumulating detritis: cords, keyboards, headphones, ipod, bills that need to be paid.
Today I cleared it.
I sit now at my clean, round table. I hear the hum of the basement dehumidifier, the muted sounds of chairs scraping upstairs, the rattle of the spring in my pen. On my table are a Krispy Kreme candle, a book of matches, a cup of ice water, my prompt box, timer, and composition book, and my wrist as it swiffs across paper and smooth red wood.
For the month of November, I will be participating in NaBloPoMo and plan to publish every day of the month. Usually, I will publish a 10-minute free write, initiated by a prompt from my prompt box. Minimal editing. No story. Just thoughts spilling onto the page. Follow along with the tag #NovemberDaily.