He was fortunate enough to have the day off. The man didn’t have a good reason to not be at work, just to mentally recharge and explore his passion for writing. No plans. Nowhere to be.
It was early in the afternoon and he found himself brewing a pot of coffee. Like his father and grandfather before him, he could drink coffee throughout the day without suffering the effects of the jitters. For him, coffee wasn’t a stimulant. He never drank it to stay awake. Coffee represented something more. It took him back to a simpler time, enjoying a cup with his father as a young boy as they sat out on the front porch and talked about how things used to be.
When the coffee had finished percolating, he poured into his favorite mug he purchased at the farmer’s market down the street and switched on some smooth jazz. As the sound of the piano and saxophone softly drifted about the room, the writing began to flow. He could do this for hours, not even bothering to glance at the time. He was lost, there in his tiny apartment, but somehow felt it was right where he longed to be.
When he wrote, he could almost feel the musical notes from the jazz as they extended from his ears to his fingertips and then onto the page. Word after word, he wrote until his song was complete. He worked tirelessly, yet effortlessly — for it truly was his passion. Stopping to sip, he imagined a day when he could write for a living. A day when he didn’t have to trade his time for a paycheck, rather — lend his creativity to a life’s work.
Alas, the coffee would finish, the sun would disappear – only to reappear the morning next; and off to work he’d be. But today, oh today, he would enjoy his cup of coffee, listen to the jazz and create music with the touch his pen! Is there any other way to spend a day off?