Well, where we used to meet, I guess. Like any long-term relationship, the Muse and I are going through one of those rough spots. I regularly visit our old hangouts, but she's not there. The coffee tastes bland, and I tell myself as I nibble on the cinnamon and raisin bun we both love that maybe the rain is keeping her away. Or it's the sunshine and she's forgot we planned to meet that day. It's hard to say. Blaming doesn't help in the long run, but I can only make so many excuses before I need to face the fact that I'm working alone again.
We meet occasionally at the kitchen table these days, but it feels awkward. I'm there every morning, but she's not. Or if she is, she's distracted, and then my pen always seems to run out of ink just as the conversation gets really good. Then I'm out of coffee or one of us needs to step away to the restroom, and the thread of conversation breaks. Back at the table, we fumble for words and inevitably the Day can be heard just outside the door not so subtly rummaging through its sack of chores. The notebook closes with the pen clipped to the side. Our eyes don't meet as we mumble about meeting again tomorrow morning.
How long can this go on? It's hard to say. We're in one of those spots that feel horrible, and I know she probably gets as upset as I do about it all. While I'm sure she sees others, I did think we had something special together. I look at my calendar to see how to pencil her in, but the weeks fly by without a good chat. Maybe a long weekend, just the two of us. Or just sneaking off for the day or even a morning. A sort of "date night" thing to help us get some of the magic back, to reignite that spark, to remind us of what brought us together in the first place. Meanwhile, I'll set my alarm to meet her at the table with fresh coffee and extra pens.