an unexpected visitor

I was minding my own business, doing what I always do, behaving normally - for me at least - when she whispered in my ear. I knew her immediately though I do not think we have ever been formally introduced. I had seen her mark often on my friend Kathleen's porch, in the clothing combinations of my darling granddaughter lorelai that can only be described as whimsical, at Jen's in her every artistic endeavor, and of course in the by now familiar art work of my writing coach mary anne, but she had never come looking for me before.
I thought she had the wrong address and was about to tell her so, when she spoke.

"Hello bevy, " she said, using the nickname that only those dear to me know. "I thought it was time for us to become friends,"

I had all I could do to keep myself from snorting my reply out my nose, but remembered my manners just in time.

"Why Whimsy, how gracious an offer from you," I replied coolly," but truly, let's be honest, we have NOTHING in common, we can't be friends."

"Ah, yes," she replied, "but aren't you starting a new chapter of your life? of your writing life especially, wouldn't it be fun if you let me tag along? Admit it, you like what you see when you recognize me in my other friends lives, you have even been a little bit envious of my work with them, you might like me if you gave me a chance. For instance, " she continued before I could interrupt her with my negativism, " look at this office. You won't get any real work done in this office, now, will you? "

As I looked around at my 8x8 room, the 30 year old green and white striped wallpaper, the 10 year old threadbare curtains, the books of my late husband housed in apple crate book shelves covered with the dust that settles from no use, I surprised myself by nodding up and down instead of back and forth.

"Ah, that's it, bevy. Follow your gut, not your overly practical mind, you can do this. For starters, think orange. You like orange. Let me do the rest. I'll be around when you need me, honest." and then she was gone.

I sat quietly for a moment in the green and white striped office that I had inherited with my widowhood eleven years ago, before I realized that Whimsy had inoculated me with her infectious spirit without my actual consent. I started to object, though I was alone in the room, and then a smile came over me. Maybe, just maybe, she was right. Maybe I do need a new friend for this journey, who knows?

and so it begins

I don't think of my self as a follower. I usually decide on my own what endeavors to pursue, but when my writing coach said "start a blog", I figured she had a reason.
I don't know yet what that reason is, but I suspect, her being a writer and all, that it has to do with just that, writing.
so, stay tuned, writing to follow.
beverly
aka grandma bevy
aka............