Please don’t force me to wake before daybreak, turn on a bright screen, and create. I am not a morning person. I bear no resemblance to anything remotely human until after my second cup of coffee. My grunts and groans are unintelligible, stringing two words together is an impossibility, concocting a coherent sentence — well, that’s not happening. I have learned to avoid my weaknesses.
Before the pandemic, Friday night dinner plans were a ritual. I looked forward to an enjoyable way to mark the week’s end. I met my friends, enjoying wonderful meals while we discussed the latest happenings and shared juicy gossip. We told jokes, laughed, and celebrated the highs and lows of what was once normal life. Many nights I came home to my laptop, and with a burst of energy, I would write dawn tinted the sky.
On the rare occasions when our schedules conflicted, I considered it a small sacrifice to stay home and write. It was pure bliss. Ordering carry-out was a decadent, self-indulgent treat that let me write to my heart’s content. No cooking or cleaning meant I could kick back and indulge my passion for writing.
They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, and tonight I am missing the joy of dinner with my dear friends.
Do you write on Friday night?
Keep on writing.
Jo Hawk The Writer