"The first order of business would be to don my bathrobe and go to the kitchen where I would sit..."

“The first order of business would be to don my bathrobe and go to the kitchen where I would sit around for a ridiculous amount of time drinking tea, and after that luxury was complete, I intended to think about the day and what it would hold for me. I went about my missions.

The tea was strong, and I added too much sugar to counteract that, yet drank the whole pot while staring into our small rectangle of a backyard. It hadn’t rained in days, and the flowers were wilting. 

Without even bothering to put on shoes, I abandoned the tea and stepped out onto the lawn to start watering the plants in my pajamas and bathrobe, grateful that there was a marginally tall fence surrounding the property. The roots greedily accepted what dripped and sputtered out of our hose, and I doused them accordingly, maybe even too much.”

-

‘We Awaken’, by Calista Lynne.

I love passages like this in other peoples’ books, and feel sad that so much editing feedback over the years has taught me that such writing is waffly and unnecessary to the plot, to the point where I largely accept it and don’t write them in the first place. 

But quiet, descriptive passages like these always move me deeply. They tell of the quiet moments of my life. They tell of *my* life. My life is wholly without dragons or adventures, or dreams in which sandwomen speak to me. And so I love these passages, and see myself and my little home in them. They’re valuable for their own sake.