Before you even open the door, you know you’re about to step into another world. The sweet aroma of roasted coffee beckons, seeping out of the independent coffee house, curling its fragrant tendrils around you to lure you into its keeping. Artists, writers, dreamers alike take note of you when you step inside. You know you are a stranger. You feel them brand you with half-curious eyes before they delve back into their masterpieces.
Warn, mismatched couches and stuffed, oversized chairs clutter the small retreat, torn open like a portal in time, catapulting you back into the memories of your college days when you had stumbled upon that secret coffee shop in Santa Cruz where you knew that the moment you left you’d never find the place again.
You can’t even understand the menu behind the bar counter because its so cloudy with chalk dust, but it doesn’t even matter what you order, anything will taste like the best coffee you’ve ever had. The barista grins at you as panic washes over your desperate face.
“Please, make me your favorite drink,” you mutter in embarrassment.
He doesn’t even reply with words. He doesn’t have to. His smile says it all.
You peruse the coffee house once more after he hands you a porcelain cup. All you have is your cappuccino and your eyes to entertain you, so you wedge yourself into a corner and hope that the fervent words tickling your tongue about all that you feel find their way into your journal someday before they are lost in the moment.
Writing Prompt: “You stumble upon a random letter on the path. You read it. It affects you deeply, and you wish it could be returned to the person to which it’s addressed. Write a story about the encounter,” using as little words as possible.
I know where this street is! I thought, my fingers tracing the smudged address in the corner of the envelope, damp with rainwater and mud.
“Will she forgive me for prowling?” I whispered, gently refolding the soiled letter riddled with the fervent contents of a dying man’s heart.
I overstepped the puddle before me that I had plucked the abandoned letter from and made haste.
No matter! This true love cannot wait!
(I tried to capture ye olden days of yore.)
This WP prompt asked me to explore three songs that mean the most to me. Since I don’t have three songs that I consider anthems in my life at the moment, I’ll add the twist of explaining how songs impacted me this week instead.
The first impact music had on me this week included me using songs to create the perfect writing environment. (There’s a whole blog post lurking in that statement that I’ll explore someday!) I use music, like many writers do, to inspire me as I write. My most favorite technique is to play a song, eyes closed, and roll a scene in my mind about what I am going to write, then turn the song off and write in silence, reliving the moment in my mind as the residue of the song still stirs in my heart.
The second impact music had on me this week was found in a love note my husband secretly tucked into my purse to cheer me up—I’ve been battling a respiratory infection since last week. The love note quoted, Chicago’s, “You’re the Inspiration.” As an 80’s teenager, this song did more than put a smile on my face when I stumbled upon it during my lunch break. I married an awesome man!
The third impact music had on me this week came from my seven-year-old daughter who created a new song all about ice cream while at school yesterday and how her favorite flavor is “orange” (aka orangesicle—seriously, who doesn’t love that flavor!) that she had to sing to me before going to bed. The idea of an ice cream cone is what inspired my previous post, a poem titled, “A Summer’s Day.” Homemade songs out of the heart of a child are the best kind!