Once upon a time there was an artist who worked in an old church converted into an events venue. She woke up at 8:30 in the morning, fed her two black cats, Chica and Oliver, and lied down peacefully on the couch until around 9:00 am. She then stretched on her yoga mat in her upstairs loft room with the windows open, allowing the breeze to bring her some focus, calm and clarity.
After buttoning up her flannel shirt and puttying her hair into place, she stopped at Bernstein's for a salt bagel with veggie cream cheese and black tea with honey and cruised down Lombard Avenue to work. Once in her upstairs office painted aqua blue and green colors, she swung open her yellow stained glass windows and sat at her large unfinished pine desk, hoping to be struck with the inspiration to write.
For a moment, she reflected on this quiet and misty gray morning and realized how lucky she was to be able to enjoy frequent days like this. It hit her then that as long as she continued to carve out these sweet little moments for herself, simply describing her day would be poetry enough.