You cannot fix a blank page

I can’t really afford staring at an empty page. Time is short and I only have 30 minutes in the morning to dedicate to writing before heading out to work. I have no idea what to write about, the words are floating somewhere above me and I find it difficult to grab them. I can see them hover around, going in circles around my head and whenever I try to reach them, they mock me and fly away.

I feel like I’m on a dry land seeing mirages. The heat is unbearable and my throat hurts. The words refuse to come closer, they don’t even want to be spoken. They run away from me even from the pages of the books.

Last week, my husband found me on the floor and asked me what was I doing down there. I told him I lost my words and cannot find them. He leaned down, kissed my forehead and said “They’ll come back, they always do”.

Days passed and I’m still waiting for them. Every time someone rings the door I’m thinking “Are they back?” and then, when I open I say “Oh…, it’s just you”. Disappointment.

They had ran away before and they’ve come back, it’s true, but I’m getting a little bit impatient this time. What if, with all the chaos around the world, they won’t be able to find their way back?

Words are an important part of my life. I like words. I like learning about their meanings, their evolution through time, where they come from. I like how you can bend them and squeeze like plasticine, how they can bring to life all that is lifeless, how they can transfer knowledge from one mind to another, how they can help different minds connect beyond time and space, how they can mend a broken heart, how they can have different colors and tastes. Words have the power to bring closer people from around the world, help them create bonds even with animals and plants.

And now they are gone and days are passing by and I’m still waiting for them to come back…