Pen and Ink

Last night, as I lay in bed, some thoughts that have been rolling around my brain gelled together. I rolled over and grabbed the small memo pad and pen that I keep stashed for moments like this. I didn't want to turn the light on and wake Jim up, so I tried to write carefully and penned a few pages. I had planned on grabbing my notebook this morning and writing up a draft during nap-time at work, but I forgot it on the nightstand.

Imagine my surprise when I grabbed the pad and flipped it open and found just five words instead of three pages. For a moment I thought perhaps I had dreamed the whole incident, as I have been having strange dreams lately (Bill Clinton made an appearance recently). But no, the evidence was there, the beginning of my train of thought, "The journey I am currently..." and then my pen ran out of ink.

How could this have happened? This was the preface to a best-seller and now the words are gone. Straight from the pen, onto the paper and into the universe; invisible thoughts about life and light flowing out into the night.

I'll have to try again, this is something I have been mulling over for a few weeks now. I know it's in there waiting to come out. Tonight, I will make sure the pen has ink.

The sunset holds a promise.