When I arrived at school today to pick up Ivy, I scored my regular park. I unbuckled the kids and pulled them out of the car and for the first time noticed a hole in the middle of the tree I park under. I’ve never noticed this hole before, but now it was staring at me obviously. I couldn’t help but peer inside, wonder what had caused it, wonder if anyone had stashed anything inside…
Thanks to a post I had read earlier in the day, by Amy Rose Davis, my mind was connected to thoughts of my childhood and this hole stirred up a memory that I’d not thought of in a vast number of years. And that memory in turn sparked an idea.
It’s a tiny idea. Really it’s no more than a scene from my childhood. A vivid memory, a small mystery that was solved relatively easily. But what if it hadn’t been? What if there was more to it?
I’m not going to share the memory here, because as yet, I don’t know what might develop from it. It’s the first inkling of a new story I have had in WEEKS though, and for that I am grateful. It put a smile on my face, knowing that my writer brain is still in there somewhere beneath the exhaustion and the enforced rest. It’s still there, and it’s working quietly in the background.