It has always been a bit mysterious. Flying blindfolded. Tightrope walking without a net. Writing a mysterious journey. No one is more surprised than I am at the results. I thought I was going one path only to switch to another. I wanted to say one thing, but another came up. I write for myself and have a happy audience. When others tell me they enjoy something I have written, I am touched and humbled. I have wanted to write most of my life, and now that I have begun, I cannot quit. With no thought of being published, I hearken to what a famous writer said of himself: that if no one read his words, he is still a writer.

The story writes itself. Often true. A waking dream. Is it a muse? The soul seeking expression. Why does the bird sing and the bullfrog croak…because it is there.

‘MJ gave me a picture frame of the Little Train That Could,’ Billy B said. ‘This has been my motto,’ Billy B continued. ‘Not the first choice for the Team but often the last,’ Billy B mused. ‘Yet I was there watching and waiting,’ Billy B noted. ‘Enjoying the antics of the outgoing, reflecting on the results,’ Billy B commented. ‘Writing was a natural, peaceful pastime for me,’ Billy B explained. ‘The door to another universe was open, and I walked through,’ Billy B said with a smile. ‘My stories mirrored my observations, both good and bad, and the large grey area of life,’ Billy B laughed. ‘I saw a movie where a psychiatrist was treating a little boy who drew pencil sketches that came to pass,’ Billy B noted. ‘When the lad drew a picture and told the doctor that it was going to happen, it did. He was quite a peculiar little man,’ Billy B said.

‘I dreamed that I was a drawing on a page with captions underneath the figure saying what I was going to do next,’ Chet said with a funny grin. ‘In the dream Dad died…we found him dead the next morning,’ Chet said sorrowfully. ‘Are we actors on a stage while another writes our lines and lives?’ Chet asked. Is our existence love, loss, life, death all in the mind of the Writer?’ Chet queried.

Jane appeared as if she had always been a part of the conversation. She was nodding and smiling, but neither Billy B nor Chet recalled her being there. Suddenly they were speaking of the joys of summer vacation and how short it was. There was so much more they wanted to do, but time ran out. School begins on Monday. Jane bemoaned the fact that she had not been able to visit the shoe store, and she must have a new pair of shoes to begin the semester. Chet looked at Jane’s feet; she was wearing Ruby Red Slippers.