Yesterday, Sweet Yesterday

Yesterday one of my sisters was in town for some doctors appointments, so I was able to grab a Wheels van (vans with wheelchair lifts) and headed out to my utmost favorite place to go - Barnes and Noble.

I love Barnes and Noble, as most of you already know. I love the books, the people who work there, the people who go there, and, of course, the wonderful Starbucks that is nestled so sweetly amidst it all. Nothing could possibly be better for me on a day-to-myself outing than Barnes and Noble, and yesterday's foray was even more special because I was going to be able to visit with my sister B. It didn't matter how long the visit was going to last, as long as I was able to see her and judge how she is doing for myself, seeing her would be simply splendiferous.

Needless to say, her doctors appointments ran long so I had the entire day to myself there at lovely Barnes and Noble. I roamed aisle after aisle making mental notes of the next books I would like to read. Strolling (and it really isn't that difficult to stroll in a wheelchair, it's all in the attitude) into the music department I made several purchases and enjoyed every single little moment of being there. Once the music was safely tucked away, I headed back to the Starbucks cafe', pulled out the journal just for writing, and began working on a short story I've been promising myself I was going to work on for ages.

Once I had the journal open and re-reading the part of the story so far written, it dawned on me B and her husband N might actually want to see me using the beautiful pen set he got for me at Christmas. Again I delved into my bag and pulled out the pen set which I keep almost ceremoniously in its box. Selected the nice heavy ballpoint pen and began working on the short story.

As the words began to fill the pages something began to happen. Yes, I know, the story was unfolding, but something else was happening. I began to FEEL like a writer and to take pride in what was coming out of the tip of the pen and thus from that Northern Lights section of me that dreams up stories.

The weight of the pen added depth to the moment and caused me to take time and think, to look at the words as they fell and to love them even more.

Little by little, time slid by unnoticed. People came and went around me. Several times I glanced up from the paper, but not once did I let the pen slip from my hand. Remarkably there were only pauses in writing on the story, never "breaks" as is the norm with me.

My Hubby arrived and I was still writing. Shortly afterwards my sister arrived and the journal and pens went back into my bag. Through the entire little visit we had I was trying to figure out how to tell them how using the pen made me feel, how it seemed to free part of me, make me more conscious of who I am and what I do. Sadly, I was never able to do it.

Now, the day after, I know deep down I will be using my pen set more. In fact, I'm not certain I will use any other type of pen, except in a pinch to write. Every writer must find their niche, their tools, and their place in the beautiful Northern Lights section of creativity. Surprisingly, quite by accident, I think I've found mine.

How do you say "thank you" for such a wonderful gift as the pen set? Maybe I should just get published, and when I accept the award for writing, relate the events? I'm sure I'll think of something and bask in the glow of yesterday, sweet yesterday.