#4 The Muse

I’m Writing a Book!

My old acquaintance—from now on I’ll call her my Muse– is really excited now. She loves what I’m writing and demands, more, more, more! I don’t want to let her down, so here’s what I write next:

That evening over dinner Renee told her husband, whose name was Edward, about her idea. Edward, of Anglo-Saxon origin, means “prosperous guardian,” she had learned recently. The appropriateness of his name had led her to research the meaning of her own name, which also rather astonished her. Renee was French for “reborn.” How very strange that for so many years she had lived in ignorance of the meaning of her name, and now suddenly, when her greatest wish was to find a new path for herself she should discover rebirth was intended for her all along!

What is important now, however, is Renee mentioning her idea at dinner. While concentrating on his soup, Edward had casually reported that a new, well-to-do investor had presented himself, allowing for the expansion of his—Edward’s, that is–already substantial holdings. “I shall have to devote more evenings and weekends until all this stabilizes,” he said matter-of-factly, with no apologies.

“I’ve been making some plans of my own,” said Renee, with no apologies either.

“Good for you! It’s time you did what’s important to you.”

“I’d like to get away. Take a trip.”

Edward’s eyes met hers, but she felt as if he were looking through hers into the distance. She knew he was watching his fortune expand at an exponential rate, but, as always, he was kind: “Whatever makes you happy,” he said.

Internally she acknowledged that the idea did make her happy, but in the present moment she had no earthly idea of what to do to make it happen.

For the next week or so Renee thought and thought about possible trips she might make. Calcutta was definitely too extreme as a starter. After all, it wasn’t as if she was a seasoned traveler. Of course she could get off and on an airplane by herself, and she had, but over the last few years she had let her grasp on the latest methods of negotiating the world slip a little. There was that matter of the computer, for example. She had insisted that the typewriter served her just fine. Until it didn’t anymore, and then she had changed. But now it was the phone. Everyone had smart phones and had become proficient with texting, and she was still getting by with a cell phone that didn’t even have voice mail. “Renee means reborn,” she reminded herself , which meant she needed to do what she needed to do to make that happen, and if that meant a new phone, so be it. Still, summer slipped into fall and she had done nothing, nothing! to change anything in her world. Except to dream. But then, she had always been a dreamer.

Damn! Back to the same old place. Inertia.

 (to be continued very soon)

4 thoughts on “#4 The Muse

  1. suzi

    My name is not Renee, but at 61 I wanted reinvention or rebirth, too!
    I look forward to being a listener of your journey.

    1. jkwinters Post author

      The impetus to grow does not stop when we get older; however, what I have noticed with myself is that as I age, I am more willing to settle for what is rather than go through the pain of change. May Renee inspire us all to be everything we can be!


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