Gone Fishin’

The phone rang at 8:30 in the morning. Just
another sales solicitor, I thought. I’ll let it go. Today is mine.

I had been up since before six, reading,
occasionally jotting notes into my day-pages. And sipping coffee from my
favorite mug coffee kept hot on a warmer next to my cozy morning chair.

The cold air outside my window wall stood
still. Soft snow fell upon itself, flakes tumbling over each other before
resting on tree limbs, pine needles, the hills and valleys of white earth.

My world was quiet and bright, and I
embraced it as the first day of that week I could call my own. No commitments
to take me away from my purpose. I planned to write some, and then sketch out
my ideas for a book jacket design I’d been asked to do.

I knew the author my sister and the
subject of her forthcoming book our dad. I wanted this jacket design to
capture who he was, what he’d stood for, and the legacy he left. The book’s
cover needed to say visually what was written inside.

And I needed this day to stay free of the
clutter of sound and activity so I could think. See. Sketch my thoughts.

But it was not to be