I believe my brain understood school was officially over yesterday morning. My first day off.
I was sitting at my kitchen table, looking out at the heavy, fuzzy snowfakles that fell from the sky. It was quiet and pretty, and I had a warm cup of coffee. No stress. Everything you want from a first vacation morning.
I picked up the newspaper, finally able to sit down and read them properly. It's one of those little things I cut into when I need to find more time, but after a month and a half of running around, I was glad to open my morning read (remember, there was NaNo just before, too). A white enveloppe fell from it.
I knew what was in that enveloppe. I knew it'd be that little card reminding me that I had a loyal paperboy, getting up early every morning to deliver my newspaper, and that he was the reason I could finally enjoy it once more. And yet, I felt that little twinge of excitation, as though that random white enveloppe contained a small treasure.
In the end, I was right. It was the Christmas card reminding me that giving tip to the paperboy would be the gracious thing to do, but it was more than that, too.
The wording of the reminder - about the paperboy coming to my door every day - sparked a scene in my head, and from that scene I imagined two characters, and within a minute of reading the text, I had a short story. Sure, the paperboy in it wishes I didn't, but I was thrilled!
In the end I never read most of the newspaper. I was too busy scribbling notes in my large notebook, on the verge of squealing, happy with myself and where this little story was going. There's very little that is more enjoyable than the first spark, the rush of ideas and adrenaline that comes with it.
And boy, I was glad to have a notebook within reach!