193. The Lost Image

He wakes earlier than usual, feeling energized and well-rested. His eyes adjust quickly to the bright light pouring in through the single large window. It’s mid-summer and the sun is already well above the horizon.

He rises from the bed and dresses purposefully in his usual work attire. Opening the window, the crisp air of the morning fills the room. He feels refreshed in every way. He feels his body is capable and his mind is prepared.

He goes over to his desk and sits down. There’s a fresh page in front of him, blank and ready. He placed it there last night, with hope. He stares at the page, and in its emptiness, he sees a faint image. He begins to write down words describing it, what he hopes will form the skeleton of a poem. He feels he’ll see the image more clearly when he has the right words for it. The concreteness of his words will give the image reality. Of this, he feels certain. This is how writing always goes for him. The idea is vague and remote at first, and the words help him see what it must be, what it always had to be.

He’s jotting down words with great focus when he hears a screech of tires followed by a loud bang. He’s startled by this and drops his pen. He rushes over to the window to see what has happened. On the street below, a car has hit a lamp post. He wonders how this is possible. There’s barely any traffic this early in the morning. He watches as the driver emerges from the car looking befuddled, as though he too cannot understand what has occurred. He considers calling for help, but the driver is already talking to someone.

He watches for a moment longer, until he’s satisfied the situation is under control. Then he returns to his desk. He looks at the words written there. They don’t seem to say anything at all. He tries to recall the image he saw in his mind and he realizes with surprise that he cannot. Where did it go? He had it just a moment earlier.

Strange, he thinks. Strange how there was something and now there is nothing. Strange how he had begun the day with such great promise and now he is stuck. He looks at the page, hoping for some hint that might revive the image, but still there is nothing. He decides there’s nothing he can do. He will have to wait for it to return on its own.