She Has a Name...

     I'm laying in my bed with the covers pulled up to my chin. My eyes are closed and my thoughts have drifted away down a lazy, clear-blue river that flows across a carpt of velvet black fabric and fades into the stars. I'm on the brink of falling completely under Sleep's spell when someone puts their hand on my shoulder. Not wanting to give them the attention they are wanting, I turn over on my side. The hand is taken off, and the person moves into my sight. Her name is Creativity and she has come to wake me up.


     To me, she is thin, willowy, made of silver and shining white thread and gives off a small glow. To others she appears differently. I have heard that Creativity sometimes comes as an elf -- maybe a short little Christmas elf wearing a onesie the color of an evergreen forest, sporting a peppermint jacket and brown leather boots. But to me, she is a lady of mystique.

     Now that I see who it is, I raise myself up on my elbows. "What do you want?", I whisper into the darkness. "I want to show you something" she croones in my ear. By now, since I am nearing the age of 21 and have already recieved many nightly visits by this annoying beauty, I know what is coming. Sighing and showing slight impatience I tell her that, although I appreciate her efforts and the generous gift of crafty ideas, I would rather sleep right now. I did not want to end up like my cousin, who awoke at Creativity's nudge to go make wrapping paper and rewrap ALL the presents under the Christmas tree at two o'clock in the morning. Oh no! I am MUCH too smart to fall for her silky voice... which last time told me to go Google recipes and ideas for ornate Gingerbread Houses at 11:00 P.M (my bedtime is 9:30). Knowing that I have smartly hinted that she should return another day, I roll onto my stomach with the pillow balled up under my chin.


     I then spend the next two hours planning how to make a rag rug. Staring at the wall in front of me I contemplate what colors I am going to use, what size crochet hook would work best, what rug shape would be the easiest or hardest to start off with, how big it should be to fit in my room, and how much longer it would be until the nearest fabric store opened so I could start. All the while, Creativity is stirring quietly in the corner of my room, twirling her hair with a finger, shoulders shaking with silent, joy-filled laughter.