I know it seems like forever since you've read words from my head and heart to the page; for that I do apologize. I've been uninspired and lethargic on the writing front.
If this were any kind of screen play at all...and it isn't, the next line would be "Stefan enters the room and takes her breath away." Not far from the real truth, he does steal my breath and often my function to put words together and form coherent sentences, (Wayne calls it 'proximity overload') as well as inspire and remind me "You're a writer" even on the days when I feel undeserving of the title.
This is dedicated to you, Stefan, for reminding me that 'I am a writer,' a choreographer of words, a Descriptionaire, a lover of stories, their origins, and their impacts on people's lives. You've inspired me, Stefan...for that, I am truly grateful.
Not so long ago, on a 'puttering Sunday,' I stopped to visit Nina. I was too late for cooking as it had all been handled on Saturday or earlier that morning. However, I did find her nearly buried in a big stack of laundry. It was mainly towels and sheets; I jumped in to help. Within a short time we had completely conquered the towels and flat sheets. During that time, I hadn't realized that she was reading me like she often does, I had simply been absorbed in the folding of the laundry, transported magically into Laundry Land when Nina's words broke my trance. "You haven't touched the fitted sheets."
"I'm not so great at folding them." I told her
"And you don't try?" I never thought about it. I suppose I just assumed that she would do the fitted sheets since they belonged to her, but she had me on the spot.
"Sure, I'll try." I said. I took one and watched her gracefully tuck both corners together, allowing her shoulder to be a resting place for one rounded corner, the other came together and rested gracefully on top of the rounded corner. It seemed like the sheets were dancing with her.
"No one likes folding the fitted sheets." she said "They are hard to put together, they are harder to keep together. Like all of the disposables these days, it's easier to wad them up and throw them on a shelf or in the corner." I thought of how I had seen some of the fitted sheets that other people either tried to or tried not to fold. "Why are you down?" she asked
"I'm not" I lied and still have no idea why. She stopped folding, put her hands on her hips, and glared at me over her glasses. I immediately took the hint and began telling her about how I was thinking that everything was going well with the guy that I liked and was dating for the past six months and then suddenly he stopped talking to me, disappeared, and said nothing further.
"Don't beat yourself up over it, Kiddo. I doubt it's anything you did wrong. Everyone has their own reasons for why they do or don't do something; Why they stay or don't stay. Not everyone knows how to communicate effectively, especially if it means hurting someone, or not being accepted for their choices. There's too many variables to sit around and try to figure it out." It was a pill I was going to have to swallow whether I wanted to or not.
She smiled at me, then moved her hands to the disaster that I was making with the fitted sheet. She placed her hands over mine and guided my other hand to the fitted part on my shoulder. She moved my hands through the process of folding that sheet. "See," she said "sometimes all it takes is a little guidance to get where you want to be."
Although I was smiling at what she said, a sadness overwhelmed me and I felt a salty tear roll from my eye. Nina wiped it away, placed her hands on both of my shoulders and turned me to face her. " You are amazing!" She told me" I don't want to be disposable." I heard myself saying "You're not" she assured.
