Proverbial Woman, Chapter 1, Part 2

Gazing out of the tempered glass doors at the pouring rain as it fell upon the fiberglass covering of the Jacuzzi, in an awakening moment of self I tenderly found myself dismissing the sounds of pattering drops. Slowly, and yet unwillingly sifting through my thoughts, I aimlessly found myself imagining what it would feel like to stand out in the mist of it all.

Nearly reaching a point of disrobing with the desire of indulging a lifelong fantasy of mine, I suddenly remembered the proximity of the building in reference to prying eyes. Being that this particular structure stood out among the many that doted this city’s often-gloomy skyline, I immediately imagined someone standing behind a telescope watching me as I made a spectacle of myself.

Of course being seen is not as much a concern as it would be to suddenly catch glimpse of someone drawing their blinds just as I took notice of them. And, furthermore, knowing that I could actually walk right pass this person on the street and have no sense of who they are, it suddenly became a frightening thought.

Although, I’m sure there are window watchers who are secretively keeping an eye on this place—and for the most part I can’t blame them—it truly is an architectural feat. As an added perk of signing on with their firm, the husband and wife team over at Cornelius Publishing offered me the opportunity to live here while putting the final touches on the manuscript. Upon accepting I was given the name of their personal designer here in Seattle. I was instructed to make any changes that I felt would be conducive to my creativeness.
    
At the time it was made clear it would be at no cost to me. Though not before first being told the Terrace was off limits. Shortly after recognizing it as the most exquisite part of the thirty-six hundred, square-foot multi-level spread, I understood why.
 
Spanning around from the southeast to the northwest corner of the building. That is, with the span of the balcony extending forty-five feet outward. With vines of wisteria blanketing its exterior walls overflowing into hanging shrubs of azaleas extending up and out from beyond the border of well-manicured hedges, its Château-like appearance displayed a look of privacy encapsulating a place of serenity.

Judging by subtle efforts revealed in its impressive details. Appearing more like an enthusiast labor of love than of a place of skyline seclusion, its symmetry of plant life displayed a welcoming poise of tranquility. Reminiscent of an old charming English Manor built on the outskirts of a quaint little town somewhere in a rural England.

Without taking any beauty away from the thematic flow of natures variation of plant life. Beneath the retractable glass roof of a smaller sized structural form, which resembled the dimensional transparency of a temperature-controlled solarium, sits an artistically groomed garden filled with some of the most rare flowers and plants from around the world.

Illumed by dual streams of soft lighting flanking neatly laid clusters of Old Italian cobblestone. Which is said to have once served as part of guided paths for monks on contemplative walks through cloisters of a now dilapidated Venetian monastery just north of Monreale, somewhere in the hills near the lower region of Sicily.

Trailing throughout the encased structure, and then out into three separate directions with all paths leading toward an elevated observation deck, the impressionable old-world look articulated a motif of simplicity ascribing to the very essence and timeless beauty of a season past. It really served me well during times when I needed inspiration.

The past four months that I’ve been here has been wonderful. And now after countless days and nights of revising, I’m down to the final three days before my three-week, nine cities book signing tour begins. And that is just the first leg of what Susan has in store for me. She says the literary world is abuzz, claiming it as Pulitzer material.

I wouldn’t go as far to think that much of it. Besides, I’m just happy someone was willing to publish it. It has been a long journey for me to be where I am right now. On many occasions I sat here wondering if what I’m about to embark on, is really meant for me.
I’ve felt like this many times before. But somehow I’d managed to get beyond the doubt. “This is the big league…” Susan often says. “You better be ready, because this is it.” She would then add.

Stretched out on the lounger before the sliding doors, as I struggle to avoid the anxiety I can feel my mind eagerly returning to the session I had with my masseuse earlier today. His name is Devin. Though this has only been the third time that we’ve met, at this point I feel his hands and I are well acquainted.

In a naïve sort of way I believe I’m really beginning to connect with him. Though I’ve met with several types who have their own unique way of doing things, neither of them could hold a candle to his way of relieving tension and providing a sense of spiritual renewal.

At times I find it rather strange to hear myself speak this way.