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With teary eyes Carolina presses the delete button. Before her eyes the four pages written that day vanish. There is no case. She can't find a way to continue the story, she feels stuck. She is experiencing one of those terrible moments in every writer's life, when words become elusive.

Almost ten months have passed since the last time she wrote something she considered worthy. The story she had started off on the right foot has not advanced a single line. Carolina feels desperate.

Looking for inspiration, she decides to change of scenery and moves to another city different from her own, with other people, other smells, another rhythm..... Sometimes a change of environment reawakens creativity.

In the new place he waits for the moving service. They bring a small amount of luggage: a few boxes with a good supply of books, the infallible family portraits, five sets of silk sheets... Just what is strictly necessary to create a certain air of familiarity in this new destination.

In her own car she has brought with her the things she holds most dear: the manuscripts of her latest works, her laptop and her mini espresso machine. While she waits, she decides to prepare a black coffee, very red, sips it slowly and looks out the window at her new landscape...

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In the early evening, while taking a shower, there is a knock at the apartment door. Carolina stops her bath, throws a towel over herself and, in a bad mood, looks through the small window. She sees it's the movers. She takes a few dollars from her purse for the tip, opens the door, tells them to leave the boxes in the living room and asks them to lock up when they are done. She goes to her room in search of a robe to cover her more.

When she comes out she finds four boxes. The movers have left. With a bit of astonishment she realizes that those are not hers. In anger and disenchantment she calls the removal service, saying that they have made a mistake. Because of the time, nothing can be done that day. Carolina will have to wait...

Undecided, she looks at the boxes again and again, thinking that she wouldn't like a stranger rummaging through hers. But annoyance gets the better of her and she gives in to the temptation to find out what's there...

In the first box she finds a small silver pot with a brief inscription: For Mary, my eternal love. Nothing out of the ordinary... However, she is struck by the fact that the little note is dated fifty years ago.

Intrigued to know a little more about Mary, she checks the other boxes. They all contain antique objects, ornaments, children's toys and a series of notebooks with small texts and aphorisms related to coffee plantations. She is impressed by the beauty of those words. She feels a little envious... Curiosity takes hold of her and she is excited to find out who that person might be.

The next morning, Carolina had little trouble finding Mary's whereabouts. The moving agency gave her the address of the recipient of the boxes, a charitable organization.

There she was told that Mrs. Mary Wilson had donated all her belongings and was now living in a home for the elderly in the city.

The GPS in her car took her directly to the old people's home indicated by the NGO, a cozy environment with large green areas. Once there she asked to speak to her old friend Mrs. Mary Wilson.

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She waited for a few minutes on one of the benches in the garden. In front of her appeared an old lady with a hesitant step and a big smile...

And who is this old friend? Mary Wilson commented without stopping smiling...

I'm sorry, I couldn't think of anything else... I thought they wouldn't deny it to me...

In a few minutes Carolina summarizes to Mary about the mistake of the boxes. She tells her about the small vase with the engraving, and about the handwritten notebooks...

When I was young I amused myself by writing things, nothing serious, a sort of hobby... I spent a lot of time with my husband in coffee plantations. While he was in his business I would write little notes...

The truth is that I did it very well, Carolina answers. I am a writer and right now I am stuck, I can't move forward with my story...

Why don't you find me a cup of coffee and we can talk for a while, Mary commented. Here the time is very long...

That first glass of coffee inaugurated a habit between the two women. Every afternoon they would have coffee and talk about their lives. The old woman opened a new world to Carolina, a world she had never known before...

In a few weeks the old woman had already told a good part of her life, from the times when she was happy with her husband visiting coffee plantations all over the world, to the moment when she decided to spend her last days in a nursing home, far from the solitude of her widow's apartment.

In the evenings Carolina would think of the stories told by the old woman. Step by step the words came back to her. She resumed the rhythm of writing. Her story moved in other directions, as good stories often do.

Mary Wilson had given her the push she needed to get out of the jam of the blank page...

Thank you for your time.

Translated with www.DeepL.com/Translator (free version)

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11 comments
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Inspiration is often just around the corner, we pass by it and we don't get soaked, but we find some pebble on that path that interrupts our path and there it is, the light emerges from where we least expect it. In my case, when I sit down to write a poem, the room is set with instrumental music in the background and a good cup of coffee, I look through an album of family photos and find one that I focus on, and there it is, to start write…

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Very interesting your method for finding inspiration. I usually think of a word and that's where I find my way. With this challenge the matter is easier because you propose us a situation. Thank you very much for stopping by and commenting. Be well dear @amigoponc . A big hug from Maracay.

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This was an intriguing and mysterious story.
Very nice read that drew me in:))
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I'm glad you liked the publication. I'm very happy with my role change in the community. Thanks so much for stopping by and for the support. Be well my dear @millycf1976 . A big hug from Maracay.

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Many encounters seem to be destined, Carolina went out to look for inspiration and life gave her much more than that.

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You're right, life is full of surprises. I like these stories where coincidences bring people together. Thank you very much for stopping by and commenting. Be well my dear @verdesmeralda . A big hug from Maracay.

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Greetings friends, what a good story and you can see how that conversation with a good coffee, served that young woman to give her motivation and inspiration to continue with each of her writings. A pleasure to read you and thanks for sharing it with us.

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I'm glad you liked the publication. Sometimes we need to have a conversation with someone to find the motivation to keep going. Thanks so much for stopping by and commenting. Be well dear @davidpena21 . A big hug from Maracay.

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How I love to hear the note in the box saying to me, his eternal love. Short words yet impactful to a dear one. Hehe. I so love how the story revolve when a wrong box was taken. Perhaps there is always magic in every coffee moments.

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How I love to hear the note in the box saying to me, his eternal love. Short words yet impactful to a dear one. Hehe. I so love how the story revolve when a wrong box was taken. Perhaps there is always magic in every coffee moments.

I'm glad you liked the publication. I am very encouraged by these kinds of challenges. Thank you very much for stopping by and commenting. Be well dear @pinkchic . A big hug from Maracay.

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You are most welcome, my dear friend. I truly appreciate your great work, and the pleasure is mine. Sending big smiles from Ph and I hope you are having a great day. Take care, my brilliant friend.

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