Lost Time

Yesterday I was driving home from Trader Joe’s, my mind deep in my novel. I am SO close to finishing it I can literally see the end and I was excited about what I was seeing. Then my eye caught a street sign and I was yanked back into the real world. I was crossing Roscoe, but Roscoe didn’t look like Roscoe. My breath came a little fast. Why is the world weird? I wondered.  I passed the street I usually take to cut over to my home street and because that street didn’t look like itself, either, I missed the turn. My worry accelerated to a mild panic. I’m a mother! I thought. I don’t have time for a brain tumor! Just then the main thoroughfare appeared. I turned down it gratefully and brought myself completely into reality. Figure out what you just did. Figuring it out only took a few seconds. I’d simply turned down the street prior to the street I usually turn down, but my brain, rummaging through my novel, analyzing, creating, sent no confirmation of this move. Therefore, I experienced lost time, I presume. If I hadn’t seen the Roscoe street sign, perhaps I’d still be driving.

Regardless–I’ve got my ending.

Yours in dire conclusions,





About PB Rippey

Writer, wife, mother, activist, fortunate.
This entry was posted in books, Faction, middle grade, Writing and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Lost Time

  1. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been on a familiar road and suddenly wasn’t sure where I was. And I didn’t have the excuse of having made a wrong turn. 🙂 Thanks for the encouragement! And congratulations on having an ending!

Words do not escape you

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