There I was, chasing the sun again. It was four o'clock in the afternoon and I was still in bed.
The phrase "still in bed" is relative considering I had worked the previous midnight-9am shift at the station, so technically I was "waking up from sleep".
As I have done for every waking hour of my day lately, I grabbed for a book on my nightstand. This one so happened to be a rather complicated love story.
The sun funneled through the glass doors in my room so deliciously, I knew I couldn't spend another moment inside. I shot out of bed, threw on a flannel and some jeans and headed for one of my favorite patios in Tyler.
I only had an hour so I knew I needed to hurry.
I arrived to my location in minutes and despite how much I truly needed the sleep, I couldn't help but think the entire way there, "Erika how could you have wasted such a beautiful day?"
I ordered the biggest burger on the menu and a frozen sangria to keep me company at my tucked away table with a perfect sunset view.
It was just me and my love story. Page after page, book after book, the stories don't stop. I'm at a point where I worry about the day when I don't have a new book to pull from my nightstand.
I don't want my mind to be anywhere else but imagination land. I want to stay in the highs and lows of the fictional characters on the delicate manilla pages I so desperately desire to turn. So I keep going.
I read in bed. I read while I eat. I would read while I sleep, but instead I dream up the stories.
I can't stop, because stopping means the fairytale is over and who wants to deal with real life if they don't have to?
Just as the sun reached the top of the tallest pines in the distance, I looked up to watch. Similar to the Grand Canyon, the sunset was slow, slow, and then all at once.
I kept reading while the remaining hues of light still filled some of the sky. I read until the story was done. The individual pages of my book became colder than the tips of my fingers.
But "they lived happily ever after"... and boy did they go through the ringer to get there!
It's one risky thing to be caught up in a love story... it makes you crave it for yourself, even if at that moment you really don't want it.