One of my favorite things to do is to revisit the past in my blog posts. Today I stretched myself back to December, 2004, writing about the sometimes struggle to keep up wiht a daily writing practice.
Enjoy this version of me: perhaps it will open up a version of you.
Katherine and I were sitting across from one another in a booth at McDonald's at Mount Vernon and Columbus. Emma was playing happily in the indoor playground so it was nice and quiet. My main goal in coming to this space was so that I could actually do my daily writing practice.
I thumbed through my notebook and shook my head at the blank pages - dated and unfilled - from the days when I "didn't get to it" because I was "too busy".
I filled one and a half pages and ran out of steam.
My wise-sage-almost-thirteen-year-old said, "You are half-way done... just describe this."
She held out a bent french fry for my inspection.
My pen started to move:
Wheat colored with rusty brown covering its bent top, like it got confused and didn't know how to turn before so the potatoe didn't even both trying. The brown was resigned to staying crusty and immobile. One speck of salt clung to its side, lower than the fearful-of-experimentation brown section. The bend was a painful process that nearly broke it... I can see where it was almost broken in two.
Maybe a quarter of an inch wide, each side of the long, bent rectangle was uniform. I wonder if it is mealy in texture, like in the late 70's when I made my money slinging them.
There is only one way to know.
I waited and described for too long.
Any mealyness in its past state turned into soggy.
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© 2013 by Julie Jordan Scott
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