While visiting the Grass Roots book store, not only did I buy some great books, including a 188-year-old bible, but I met two people with whom I began talking.
After a few minutes, Bill said, “You’ve lived quite the life.”
Zoe had walked away by then.
I don’t think either one of them believed my stories.
That is okay, as no one understands that every moment alive is an adventure to be set down into words and shared as a story. For example, while printing, a problem developed with the magenta roller.
It began to leave a red streak across the upper portion of the newsprint, and no matter what I did to correct it, it got worse. Finally, I left it alone and finished the job with the discoloration still present.
When asked, “Why is it red?”
I answered, “Because we’re preparing for Easter, and that is our representation of the blood of Christ.”
Each time I got a good laugh from the person asking the question. Thus, I turned my frustration with the printing machine into an adventure and story.
It is how my imagination works and why I feel the desperate need to write as I do.