To One Mr. Brasher

There is something peaceful about writing. In a world full of noise, the silence of putting words on a page is refreshing. A cup of coffee, a wooden table, a cushy couch that creaks in a particular spot; all companions in a way that my desk could never be.

If only the real world could be as serene as the process of writing, where mistakes can be backspaced and thoughts can be dressed to perfection before stepping into the unknown. But, perhaps I’m overly romanticizing the craft. Because when I think about it, the silent words on a page can sometimes overpower the noise from the life outside of them.

The truth is, I haven’t been able to find my spot on the cushy, creaky couch for a while. The car honking behind me at 8 in the morning; the voice of a Realtor sharing ideas for what she wants her videos to be because her page deserves at least as much traction as her rival Megan gets; the phone in my hand, playing a vertical video of someone named Ben who is claiming he knows the new way to get views: more info in the description (of course)– the noises drowning out my place by the wooden table.

Though you’ll hardly believe me, the joke of writing to you while you were gone as if you were a solider, long lost at sea, was just that… a joke. But, I’ve unwittingly given myself an excuse to find the silence. If only for a moment.