Sunday, April 11, 2010

Quiet Time

There was now a toilet at one end of our narrow bedroom closet. I was sitting on it fully clothed, with the lid down, thinking, when the door slid open and my wife came in to hang some clothes. When she turned on the light and realized I was there, she apologized for intruding on my privacy. She quickly finished her chore, then turned off the light and closed the door. A moment later, the door slid open again. This time it was our son, looking for his guitar. I could see he was trying to hide a smile. “I know you think this is ridiculous,” I said. “And you’re right — it is. Be that as it may, I have a lot of thinking to do.” Still smiling, he left without answering and closed the door. His guitar was in the opposite corner. I had to get up and turn off the light myself.

Recently Linked: My thanks to Pris Campbell for kindly recommending me to readers of her blog, Songs to a Midnight Sky. Thanks, also, to Shelli Proffitt Howells for linking here from her blog, Naissance. So nice of them both!

In the Forum: What do you mean by that?


Wine and Words said...

I am thinking this a dream. But then...I really don't know you all that well yet, and perhaps this closeted toilet is indeed the throne upon which you chess your mind and pawn your thoughts. Or it is simply the creative way you wish for alone time. I'm off to the closet to figure it out!

William Michaelian said...

Ah, that fact that you are up at this hour and already off to the closet speaks volumes, I think. But for the record, this interval of quiet time really was a dream.

Shelli said...

Nice has nothing to do with it -- I like your writing and I don't want to miss any of it. My blog lets me know when you post something new. I guess now that I'm outed, I can't be a lurker anymore, can I?

William Michaelian said...

Quite the contrary. Just remember to turn off the light when you leave. And I’ll remember to return the favor when I visit Naissance....

Noxalio said...

oh, William,

this one
is a gem

and i confess--
somewhat biographical,
in my case.

William Michaelian said...

Thank you, dear Noxy. It could be that this dream is, in its own way, quaintly universal. Or universally quaint.