Bare feet on the hardwood floor in the morning.
Sunshine comes through the open window, spreading over my toes, shining warm nearly-spring light.
It's been a few days without technology now, something I am not used to. For a girl who does everything online, including school and writing, this hasn't been an easy task. I'm forgetting passwords (because I had them all stored in a neat little file on my computer) and I keep thinking, "Oh, I'll just google that," before realizing that my laptop is in the shop and if I want to google anything it means using my big fingers on my tiny phone screen, a less than pleasant experience.
So this morning I came upstairs, sunlight streaming through the window, and I thought maybe I'd borrow a computer for a few hours, to get some school done and to write.
And then there was no Internet access...
I hate to say I'm addicted to technology but I kind of am. My life exists on my phone and on my laptop. Now everything is easier when I just write my stories via the computer and there's the convenience of the Internet.
And so I did what any sane writer would do, I dug out an old, never been used notebook and cracked open the pages. I grabbed a pen, and I sat at the kitchen table, remembering what it's like to write using a pen and paper.
It definitely wasn't as easy as writing on a computer. Ink smeared across the side of my hand and my fingers began to cramp up and the words were messy.
But there was something magical about writing the words on a pen and paper. The smell of the fresh ink on the page excited me. It made me remember all those nights long ago when I would sit in my room late at night and fill binders with words of a story I was writing, all by hand, with blisters on my fingers and ink permanently staining the side of my hand. That was when I didn't know anything about being a writer and just wrote because there was something enchanting about the whole thing. I created some of the best characters there.
But I wrote, and it awakened something within me. It excited me and the smell of the ink and the feel of the paper under my pen made me feel something I'd forgotten when I switched to modern convenience.
There's something elegant and romantic about writing with a pen and paper. There's something about writing for hours, until your hand cramps up and ink is smeared and all that's left on that page are a few messy pages of pure bliss.
Sunlight splashed over my page and the words came alive and the smell of drying ink swirled around me. And I couldn't help but smile because the wonder of it all made me feel giddy and excited.
Our Internet is back up and running now, and while my computer is still away I have to admit it's kind of nice to have a small bit of my technology back.
But, as I sit here waiting for emails and trying to remember passwords, I remember those few hours this morning, and I can't help but smile.
Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if the technology stayed off for just a little while longer...