Pot of Prose

I set a pot of water to boil while I quickly worked on another publisher’s submission. 

A couple of hours later, I got up from the computer.  As I left the office, I started to notice a distinct odor coming from the kitchen.

I had forgotten about that pot of boiling water on the stove, which is now only an empty pot with a scorched bottom.   The red-hot burner is smiling back at me, daring me to forget its power and existence… ever again!

I have to shake my head at myself.  The pot’s stained bottom is yet another reminder of my focus and forgetfulness.

In child-like wonderment, I look around, amazed at how water can simply disappear into thin air, leaving no trace of its prior existence.  All I am left with is the stain that sits at the bottom of the pot — its personal badge of courage for quietly enduring the heat of the burner. 

As I’m scrubbing the bottom of the pot, I’m wondering if the stain will ever come out or will it act as a constant reminder of my forgetfulness?  Will the pot carry this scare of my mistake for the rest of its useful life?

Looking down at the poor pot, I think that if I had to choose, I would rather be this stained pot that endures the heat of the burner and not the water that simply disappears — without a trace — when things get too hot to handle.

I keep scrubbing, wondering if I should just give up.  At this point, I can’t tell if I’m making any progress on the stain at all.  What progress I think I see, I don’t know if it’s real or imaginary… not at this point.

A bit frustrated, I leave the pot to soak in the sink, thinking I’ll come back to it later. 

I wander back to the computer to work on another query letter and submission.

Yes, I keep returning to this, too — wondering if I should just give up.  I can’t tell if I’m making any progress.  What progress I think I see, I don’t know if it’s real or imaginary… not at this point.

But I’m not ready to give up on my pot of prose.  I’m not ready for my dreams to evaporate into thin air… not just yet.

Yes, I would rather be the stained pot that endures the heat of the burner and not the water that simply disappears — without a trace — when things get too hot to handle.




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