The mind is mush, after a long hectic day. The fingers tap away aimlessly at the keyboard, seeking some inspiration. Some rhythm. Type. Delete. Type. Delete.
Nothing worthwhile flows from this exercise. Not today.
And then the phone rings and it is my friend, Michael. Cooped up in a nursing home in Maryland, battling his physical and emotional demons. We talk about the good old days. We talk about family and UT. We share a few laughs. Some silly jokes. My heart hurts for him.
My inability to find inspiration to write seems so trivial and mundane compared to the challenges Michael deals with every day. My circumstances will change tomorrow. His demons are here to stay.
About Hemant Rustogi