The wind gusts were in excess of 50 mph. The windows rattled and the siding shook. Shingles were ripping off our roof and flying into the neighbor’s yard. So, I was awake. I listened to the howling, raging winds and thought of things to do.
I had a wonderful idea for a blog story. It was clever, funny, and moving. It made sense to me and I thought about writing it down while it was fresh in my mind.
But in the still, morning light, I find that I have absolutely no memory of my creative idea. I haven’t a clue what I intended to write. I have no recollection of the content, the story, or even the premise. It has vanished from my memory like the asphalt shingles held to my roof with two nails, instead of the required five. It blew away with the night.
As I walked the neighborhood, picking up tar paper and debri, I thought of the book deal that could have been mine if I’d only taken a moment to jot a note in my beside journal. I have no doubt that the royalty check would have paid for the insurance deductable.
