I am a little red faced when I admit this, but I love my imagination. It is honestly often more entertaining for me than any book, or movie, or television program around.
I set the stage. Perhaps a dark and stormy night in the middle of nowhere. I decide on the characters. An appropriate hero, or maybe even two, a woman in some sort of dilemma that causes her to run into the former and the story begins.
Turning the key one more time, the young man leans back in the seat and sighs deeply. Why is it that cars never break down in town, by a repair shop, when you have money? Opening tired eyes, he smiles wryly.
Five miles away another man pauses in the doorway before he locks up for the night. After all the years it took to find this place and get things just right, he seldom has time to come up here. Some people might find this storm a bit daunting, but not him. The rain pounding against the house with almost hurricane force, the sound of distant thunder rumbling through air heavy with the scent of wet pine needles and damp wood and the bright flash of lightning, fills him with a yearning he cannot put his finger on, but longs for.
My mind is off and running, or rather meandering, through the thoughts and feelings of people whose destiny lies in my hands. I design their houses, build their fires, decorate their rooms. I imagine situations where they must deal with the problems I create and yet.
I am filled with excitement at the way they cope and the drama that unfolds around them in the midst of nature’s fury. I become misty eyed at the sweetness that permeates the awkward conversation as it slowly settles into a deeply personal and revealing moment in time and I decide what will happen next.
What a beautiful night!
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