Only One Coffee Cup

[Cita]

She'd been everything to everybody for so long... good daughter, good wife, good mother, good friend, good grandmother, good custodian, good cook, good dog groomer for crying out loud.

Now she only had cats, now that her parents were gone and her kids were grown.

The husband and dog has also died, and sure, she'd grieved, long and hard, but then one day she'd found herself making a name badge for a latecomer to the twice-annual writer's workshop that she chaired for her writer's group (that she also administrated) while all around her the scratch of pencils moved toward the dinging of the five minute bell, leaving her behind, again.

And that was it... she'd given up her position with the writer's group, given up her membership, and built herself a house, a house big enough for her and two cats and a hell of a lot of vegetables and only one coffee cup on the hook.

And she'd started writing, every single day, taking care of no one but herself and sometimes the cats and sometimes the plants, and she wrote pages and pages and pages, and she drank coffee and stared out the window for as long as she wanted.

And she was happy, damnit, very happy, but... she took a swallow of almost-cold coffee... now there was this boy, this boy out there in her garden, walking through her summer squash.

[Kristine_ES]

ever have the thought that every writer wants a life like that? ONE cup on the hook and writing writing writing all day, drinking cold coffee... and then something starts rummaging around in your peaceful life. 

this was a very cool vision. 

[Toby Tucker Hecht]

Great story.  You can never avoid people altogether.

[Angela]

I felt her growing lighter and more free by the moment.  What she says and does to that boy will be the thing that makes the whole town think she's crazy.

[Jadie Jones]

bittersweet and lovely. i agree with Gita - i thought i knew where this was going and suddenly the tracks switched so seamlessly i never saw it coming.

[Cita]

For me, summer squash is the yellow crook-necked kind.  I like it cooked with bacon and topped with cheddar.  

[Gita]

Just when I think I know where your story is going, it takes a turn and surprises me. I like the repetition of "this boy"  and "happy" in #6 and the question that hangs in the air. By the way, when you write 'summer squash' I see the yellow crook-necked kind, but then I wonder if maybe it's butternut or patty-pan... would you tell me which?