Some mornings, as I sit at my kitchen table drinking coffee, I stare at these two men and wonder what they’re talking about. You may think that strange, unless you’re a writer.
The following excerpt is from a scene in my work-in-progress sequel to The Red Kimono. It was prompted one morning as I stared at these wise old men.
Nobu picked up a bonsai tree from the shelf in the living room and carried it to the kitchen table. A little clay man leaned against the trunk of the miniature tree, his fishing pole extended over an imaginary pond. How tranquil he seemed, sitting in sunlight that filtered through the blinds.
He ran his fingers along the needles of little pine tree. Follow the branch in one direction and the needles were smooth. Go against the grain, and they were sharp and prickly. And so it seemed, it was with life.
From a small box on the window sill, he removed a tiny pair of scissors, then studied each branch before snipping tips of brown from the needles. He returned the scissors to the box and placed it back on the sill, a routine he followed each morning.
AUTHOR NOTE: As Nobu’s morning progresses, he learns something that will forever change his life…but it’s a secret, so I’ll just skip to the next part about the man under the bonsai tree. 🙂
Nobu turned the clay fisherman to face the sunlight. What would it be like to be that little man, his only care in the world, to catch a fish?