While taking my daily walks this past week, I noticed two swans had moved into my neighborhood. They do everything together. Fly, bathe, swim, groom. Admittedly I know next to nothing about the life of swans. (Although I do believe they can form life-long monogamous pair bonds and are fiercely protective of their nests. My hon was even chased by one as a kid.)
As I watched these swans, I found myself asking question after question.
Will they stay here? Or is this a stopover for them? How long have they been together? What will happen if one of them passes away?
I’m walking and thinking. My mind pondering the past and future of these swans.
More walking, more thinking.
Of course, like I’ve always done since I was a kid, if I don’t know something, I make up my own story for it.
Now these swans each have a tragic backstory that led them to the moment they met. I know how long they’ve been together and that one is older than the other. I know how many obstacles they had to overcome to get to this peaceful, contented place they now live.
Then I stopped, stared at the swans, and laughed at myself. I could’ve been pondering and plotting my next book. But noooo… I’m dreaming up stories for two swans. Swans!
Thus goes the mind of a writer, a daydreamer.