I love to walk in the morning, especially when the warm sun travels along the path I have chosen and a gentle breeze kisses my cheeks. A brisk walk clears my head and infuses energy for the day ahead. Whenever I skip this morning regimen, I tend to drag through the day. Work seems burdensome rather than joyful. Often I use the time to meditate and pray. Sometimes I am compelled to pick up litter that has been carelessly strewn beside the road. Other times I simply and gratefully bask in the wonder of God's amazing creation.
As I lift a hand to acknowledge passing drivers or utter a quick "good morning" to other walkers, I wonder about their lives . . . not the usual curiosities: Where do you live? What do you do? Where are you going? Rather, my questions, as a writer, are: What makes you tick? How do you respond to life's challenges? What are your fears, your joys, your struggles? What worries you? What motivates your words and actions? What brings you peace?
My extroverted neighbor stops each passerby and fearlessly poses her questions aloud. She engages in many conversations along the way and acquires much information about the neighborhood before returning home. But I prefer to imagine the answers.
Often, as I put one foot in front of the other, an idea for a story or a character pops into my head, compelling me to rush home and put pen to paper or, more accurately, fingers to keys. I realize I have engaged in this practice throughout my entire life--unconsciously inventing fictional characters and scenarios, that is. With retirement looming, I look forward to the luxury of time in which to weave them into stories and share them with my fellow introverts, who, like me, would rather read and write than talk.
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