This morning as I gaze out of my window on the world, I wonder Why about a lot of things, disconnected things, unimportant, important, goofy, and serious.
Two adult squirrels chase each other around my maple and I realize I never see tiny squirrel babies. I suppose they stay in their nests or at least close to home until they are able to navigate on their own. Why?
As I think back on my life, the paths I’ve taken and those I chose not to take which seemed right at the time, I wonder Why? Why did I choose one thing and not the other? Why didn’t I?
A gray cat named George takes his early morning stroll, stopping to bump his nose along the sidewalk, sniffing at something. Why does he do this? Why doesn’t he stay home?
People bicker over small things, snipping and snapping at each other. Why? Is selfishness or self-esteem involved? Hatred, violence, mindless fury are all too rampant now. Why?
Plots for mysteries, characters, motivations, entire scenes swirl in my head each day and I spend hours putting them on paper. 
Why? I’ll never be rich or famous so why do I do this?
Yesterday, my grandson and I ate lunch at chick fil-a. While we were there, a little boy who was probably four years old, a small stranger, glanced up at me, smiled and waved. My heart lifted considerably as I smiled and waved back. Why did this innocent little act of friendship mean so much to me?
We are complex people and our world is complex. As I look around, I can’t see it getting any less complicated. Reasons for the “whys” must be as numerous as the stars and perhaps sometimes the reasons are elusive and unknown to anybody but God. Nevertheless, I can’t keep from wondering Why?
And that is why you write you write cozy mysteries, you remember the ‘small stuff’ because you want to know ‘Why’.
We were eating in a Chinese restaurant when a boy of about 4 years stopped by our table and watched intently while we ate. Why, he asked, are you eating with pieces of wood?
I explained that not all people in the world ate with knives and forks, he listened quietly while I told him of our time living in China. He said next time he was going to try to eat with chop sticks.
His mother appeared and apologized for her son interrupting our dinner, she said he always asks too many questions. I replied a child can never ask too many questions, we can learn a lot from the curiosity of a child.
Thank you for your most interesting comments, Josephine. You are exactly right and I’m glad you encouraged the child. He will probably always remember that. I love your anecdotes and would like to publish one, if you have time to write it.
Blanche, I have the above painting, ‘Listening to the Lark’, in the dining room. One of my favourites.
It’s one of my favorites too. I have the small picture on my desk. The painting says so much without words! I’m glad you like it too.