A Room of One's Own

Virginia Woolf, another of my lady writer mentors, once wrote that "A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction."

I believe the same of nonfiction, maybe even...a blog?

But on a budget, and traveling in a group, a room of one's own is a little much to ask.
And so, one learns to make do.And so, on a walk prompted by one of my "artistic" moments, I stumbled upon a park just as a light shower began to drizzle down upon my head. Intrigued by the design of the playground, and anxious to escape the rain, I climbed the wooden ladder and ducked down into the belly of the fish.

Somewhere in between the innocence of the playground and the crude street art, I felt at ease. I sat down on the bench and began to write.

Amongst the stillness and quiet, suddenly all the intricacies and ironies settle and words jump to the page. Sometimes they make sense, sometimes not. Sometimes they begged to be shared, and others stare out into the world and cry to be hidden again.

Quiet is unnatural and its uncomfortable. Precisely for those reasons, it prompts imagination.

Although the only sounds I hear are the scratching of my pen against the paper, the faint trickle of rain, and my own thoughts...I wonder about the sounds I'm not hearing.

The children who play here, laugh here. The adults who once did, where are they now? Do they think of the fish fondly? Have they moved away? Do they wonder if it still exists? What about the tagger who painted upon it? Who was he or she? Did he or she play on it as a child too?

When I look at it, I think of Jonah in the belly of the whale. How many others have thought the same thing?

Silence is never very silent. Too many questions and too many thoughts.

After a while, I shake it off, laugh to myself, jump of the side into the moist sand, and continue my walk.

Strange, though, how I know that the fish -to me- will always be mine. No matter who was there first, or who spent more time there, or whose name is sprayed across its side.

I have a room of my own.
I will always be Jonah in the belly of my whale.