Kelly spotted Rose sitting alone, half-hidden by ghostly shadows. The elderly woman’s thin legs crossed, one foot tapping in rhythm with the beat of the pop song the kids were singing. This was the first block party Rose had attended since Patrick’s death, and Kelly suspected it was difficult for her. Whispering something to her husband, John, she grabbed a bottle of water and hurried towards her neighbor. Her smile looked forced as Rose accepted the drink, blotting its exterior with a napkin before struggling to remove the lid.

“Let me,” John said, opening the drink. “We’ve got a surprise.” 

Rose frowned but took his arm. The kids stopped dancing and hurried over, talking in hushed voices, excitement palpable. Old photos of her beloved Patrick dangled beneath the garden lights strung between telephone poles, swaying gently in the breeze.

“You remember,” she whispered, eyes overly bright.

Kelly hugged her. “Always.”

This week’s piece was a tad more difficult to bring together. I wrote the first version from Rose’s point of view, but aspects of it didn’t work, and I was well over my word limit. I changed the POV character and tried again. It came together a little quicker, but the required element/action wasn’t as clear, so it took word wrangling, a few breaks, a bottle of water, and an extended hooping session before it came together. After which, I closed my file and went for a brain break. 

Some day’s writing’s like that. You spend more time chasing the words than getting them down on paper. I’m currently outlining a novel length book, and had wandered off for a brain break because the scenes I was working on weren’t stacking as well as they should have.

Later, neck deep in folding laundry — seriously, you should have seen the absurd pile of it — when the opening line to the book came to mind. I abandoned the laundry to go jot down the line before I forgot it, and then scenes started falling into place again.