Today on my way home from work, I saw a man sitting outside of his garage on one of those folded lawn chairs with thick woven bands. Next to him sat an identical chair, empty. I don’t know what it was about this that struck me, but it’s stuck in my head.
I love moments like these because I store them in my head for later. These are potential writing ideas. I think, “I could write a poem about this. No, a story.” Then I wonder, “Is he waiting for someone? Is he all alone but hoping for a companion? Has he lost someone and out of habit set up the chair?” I like that I can answer these questions anyway I want. It’s not a writing “assignment” for today, but I won’t soon forget it.