Ragtime Melody...

As I was going through the motions of the moment, I could hear the words in my head again- the narration. I ached for a pen, a pencil, or a tape recorder that could some how engrave my stream of consciousness permanently. I heard the whole chapter in my head as I watched and sat, as I helped her, and as I waited. The background, descriptions of the setting, the way her impatience grabbed my attention, annoying me until I had no choice but to join the effort which led to its eradication. The words flowed smoothly across my mind, like the CNN scroll at the bottom of the TV screen. The only problem was once they left the screen, they were gone. Believe me, I ran upstairs as fast as I could, grabbing my trusty laptop to commit the memories. My fingers dove for the keyboard being pulled to it like magnets. The magnetic pull seemed permanent. My fingers, poised, and ready to type perhaps the greatest thoughts of my life, could not move. I cleared my head to think, think, think. The setting, yes. Pillows as white as.... Did I really think something about the pillows? They weren't even that white now that I thought about it... It was at this moment, when the only black found on the white screen was the flashing scroll, that I began to accept their loss and mourn. Can you mourn words? But, when you think about it, the words were in there at one point, they just have to be found again. And, as I convinced myself of this truth, I began to think again, to listen to the scroll slipping along in my head, and my search for the words that will describe the rest of my life. As I nod off, I know to keep searching. I'll find them. In my dreams.