With an uninterrupted view of the Atlantic Ocean, I ordered a glass of chardonnay and a plate of grilled calamari. The sun was shining; it was a crystal clear spring day.
I took out my notebook and camera, laid it beside the glass. I took a savoring sip, picked up the camera, snapped a few frames, opened the notebook.
The calamari arrived. I pushed the notebook aside, squeezed fresh lemon over the cubes, added some ground pepper. I looked up; taking in my surroundings, life was good.
One scoop of chocolate-mocha gelato hit the sweet spot.
A brief interruption as two ladies leaving paused at my table. Touching my shoulder, the one asked:
“Are you a writer?”
“Well yes, mam, I am.”
“I thought so,” she said, “have a nice day.” They left.
What was it? Was it the black notebook and the camera? Was it the gazing at the water, followed by scribble-scratch-scribble? What was it?
You believe it for the briefest of moments. Then you don’t. You know it’s a long shot. That’s where the magic happens.
©LIRYN DE JAGER
Tags: belief, believe, camera, gazing, magic, moments, notebook, ponder, words, writer, writing