I`m walking into my coffee shop and I order my large double-double. As I wait, I look all around me, checking out the possibilities. Where will I go today? Where can I sit…and write? Here comes my coffee. She thrusts it forward. I reach to take it and I thank her, as though it had been ten years since my last coffee.
I turn to go. My hands prickle in response to the intense heat of the coffee. There it is! The place where I will sit today. Yes, that will do. Away from the entrance and away from the washrooms where the traffic won`t bother me. I like to concentrate so that I can reach that special place in my mind. I know my thoughts are ready when I feel as though I’m sitting on the beach, the sun warming my face, and I hear the music. Yes, it is so much better when music is swimming out of the headphones and into my thoughts.
I am ready.

I sit down, place my coffee way out in front of me, so there is room for my book and my iPhone. The iPhone is not there for texting or calling. It is sometimes there to help me find my thoughts. It’s there for reading. Sometimes I want to write…no make that…I have to write. But when the thoughts are interrupted by all the gotta-do, better-do, and shoulda-done; I read to help me centre and focus. Sometimes I’ll read blogs, I might read my own writing, or I might look something up.

I take a sip from my cup. Cautiously though, knowing it might be hot. Ahhh. That helps. Warmth (and caffeine) to help me think clearly, honestly, and openly. It provides me with that little kick, like the one a puppy needs to get up the step and into the door.

I reach in to grab the book out of my purse. Next, I fish for my pen. I pull one out..I’m not in the mood for black ink today. I reach in again. No not that one either. Last time, that pen skipped across the paper and I got frustrated, losing my concentration. One more time, I know it’s in there. Ah yes, my little blue friend. Her name tag says “Profile”. She is my favourite.

I look down at my NEW book. It is a smaller book, with a red hardcover, no print or pattern on the front. As I open it, it cracks; like the aged knuckles of a loving grandmother. I flip the pages, browsing the words. I am reminded of things that have happened before today. Sometimes it makes me smile or even laugh out loud (as patrons shoot glances over at me laughing at myself). Other times, my throat tightens, the lump grows…and I push back the tears.

What will happen today? Will it come to me easily, or will I need to read something first? I’ll have to get started and see.

I begin to write:
Tuesday, November 29, 2011

…it is time to lose myself to one of the things I love to do, write in my journal. I’m sorry though…the audience for a journal, is private to the writer. So, here is where this post ends…and my journal writing begins.

Happy writing!

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