the back burner

living lately

Sometimes people write just to see it all down on paper. Sometimes people write in order to think. I often write when I am lonely, writing for fellowship. Seeing it written and understanding it thoughtfully are great kick-backs, but they're bonus options. When I write things -- not back burner things, mind you, but the real stuff -- I can hear the words as well as see them. I can taste them and am not lonely.

It is as if I am wrapped up in wool and sipping a warm beverage on a chilly front porch while a good friend and habitual introvert spills his eloquent guts. The words spill out into the space between us and my ears swallow them whole like a vacuum cleaner or a boa. I am not alone because the three of us are there: myself, my friend, and the essence of what is being said. The story kind of uncurls and billows around like smoke, different from the words, something I would never swallow because it is the third person of our secret crew.

And the words are good, because introverts sit on thoughts until those thoughts are ripe. All I have to do is make consistent eye contact and keep sipping. Oh, and I must not pay too much attention to myself. When I do, the porch fades and my hand stops scribbling the delectable words. I come to myself and realize I'm alone. And wanting company.

I'm going to go write something. Something good.