It was one of those days. It was one of those days where I had overslept and the cat had thrown up and the very first thing I did was step in it. That set the tone for the day.
A boss was cranky and the computer crashed and I forgot to put my yogurt in the refrigerator so it went sour. Little things. Stupid things. But things that all together, by the end of the day, had managed to obliterate any and all sense of inspiration and creativity.
So by the time I sat down at my keyboard that night, after making lunches and loading laundry and singing lullabies and packing milk money and making sure that everyone and everything was as it should be, I was done. Finished. Sure, there were a few ideas I wanted to put together, but the well was dry.
I typed a paragraph. It was awful. I typed another. It was worse. "Why do I even put myself through this?" I thought to myself. My finger hovered over the delete key, and I contemplated simply going to bed.
Then I saw it. A slip of paper, black paper, sticking out from under the mouse pad. I pulled it out. It wasn't paper; it was a card. I'd received it weeks ago from a friend and put it on my desk. It must have fallen over, unnoticed.
I read it, and for the first time that day, I laughed. It read:
"Never, never, never give up."