Sometimes I wonder if writers find life more interesting than other people.
As a writer, I'm constantly wondering... like:
* where are those people flying to in the plane overhead, and are they looking out the window at me on the ground, or are they busy talking to the person next to them?
* if an earthquake (an-epic-movie-making-earthquake) happened in the middle of the day, where would my family meet up again? at home? at church? We'd all be coming from different directions; could we get back together?
* was it coincidence that my family decided spur of the moment to open all of our presents Christmas Eve instead of the traditional Christmas day; and then our Christmas day was consumed with the death of our awesome dog Pennie? Coincidence? Inspired?
Life is interesting.
Pennie the dog always told us when she and/or Sabbath (our other dog) needed to go outside. First, she'd sit and stare at me until I took notice and recognized her cue and let them out. If I was preoccupied and didn't notice her cue, she would moan at me until I did notice her. Sabbath never gave the cue. It was always Pennie.
All day, Tuesday, Sabbath came to me and sat directly in front of me. I asked him, "Outside?" and he jumped up and ran to the back door. He'd never done that before. He has to now, because his best friend and care taker is gone. He's also only peeing in one spot now. Before, he used to always wait for Pennie to pee, and then he would pee directly on top of her spot on the lawn.
Life is interesting.
My friend went to water aerobics Monday morning and from what I understand, her aorta separated from her heart. They were able to get her to the hospital and notify her family very quickly. Her family was able to gather and say good bye before she passed away. I feel sad for her husband. They were best friends.
We've been letting Sabbath sleep with us since Pennie passed away, so he won't feel so lonely with out her. Or is it the other way around? So we won't feel so lonely with out her. We've slipped several times, forgetting that Pennie is gone, expecting her to come around the corner or put her head on our knee or come in from the backyard.
Life and death are both interesting, but I'd rather experience life.
Try back again tomorrow, and I will do my best to post a more cheerful commentary on the topic of writing.
In the meantime, do you think writers wonder more about the details of life than a typical person? Or do you think everyone considers the ins and outs of every possibility?