I find myself feeling so very jealous of my dear family and friends back home in the states. While some may long for a full year of fun in the sun, right about now I feel the need for the change of season that won't be coming.
I miss the hues of crimsons, golds and caramels on the trees, as well as blanketing the ground. I miss bundling up in layers of sweaters and jackets, scarves and gloves. I miss watching my breath come out in puffs as I breathe in the frosty air. I miss nights curled up by the fireplace drinking hot cocoa and snuggling by my sweetheart. I miss the cold.
I remember once in Virginia, which is actually a slightly warmer climate then my true home, stopping to get gas. I was in jeans and a t shirt, it was somewhere around 60 degrees, so while I wasn't comfortable exactly, I definitely wasn't freezing by any means. This man in a sweater was in front of me, and looked so surprised as he stood there hugging himself watching me casually wait for the tank to finish filling up. He just gawked and said "Aren't you cold?" And I explained that this was pretty much spring time weather where I grew up. Summers even rarely got up very high, maybe a handful of days over 90, but generally 80s at most. So for me, 60 degrees was a good middle ground. I laugh at that now!
I get the distinct feeling when we go home this year for a November visit, by body will be going into a bit of a cold shock! After all, for 2 years now I haven't left the warmth of this humid, tropical island. I am guessing by the time we leave again, our bodies will just begin to remember their roots and we will be thrown back into the fire that is Guam.
I know this is the place we need to be right now, and for the next 2 years. But I don't think I will ever stop longing for the change of seasons. I have never even been a very big fan of change in general, but this change from bright grassy greens and sky blues, to caramel leaves and fiery trees, I welcome. And then the bittersweet fact, the older I get the faster time seems to pass, even as I long for it to slow down, so I know it won't be long before I get to enjoy the colors of autumn again.
Showing posts with label writing exercise. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writing exercise. Show all posts
Monday, September 13, 2010
Monday, July 12, 2010
And Then There Were Three (Part 3)
This is the 3rd part in my fictional story. Check out the rest starting here.
The next Monday I woke bright and early to some small birds singing from the maple tree outside our bedroom window. If it had been spring, this would've been a regular performance and I would've opened the windows to let the fresh air flood inside carrying the tune along with it, but in October, the bird's song was a rare treat. Ben had already left for work and other then the sweet soft song from outside, the world was silent. I hated to break that silence with by making anything to eat quite yet, so I plopped down on the love seat in the corner of the room nearest the window, and curled up under a soft chenille blanket with a book. It was a romance novel, but not the hot and steamy kind with no substance, no this book was more real. Even more to me since it was the first book I had ever gotten published. It was a fictional tale of love based on how Ben and I had met, courted and married. Of course I added a little more drama to the actual events to grab my readers and suck them in, but under all the fluff it was real.
Ben had been taking night classes at the local community college 4 years ago when I moved into town. A week after I had arrived, on my way home from the grocery store in my little Ford Focus, I had gotten my first ever flat tire. I managed to steer my car over onto the side of the road safely, but it was dark out and I was in an unfamiliar town on a deserted road surrounded by looming pine trees. I had no one nearby to call to help me or get some for me, no directory to call for a tow truck or a cab, and no knowledge of how to get my spare on, let alone a jack to do it with. I just put on my hazard lights and prayed that someone would be coming along soon, kind enough to assist me somehow. I didn't have to wait long, within 20 minutes I saw the headlights of what appeared to be a truck or SUV coming around the bend in the road about 100 yards to the north of where I sat. It was Ben, my hero then and now. Despite a late night class after a long day at work, Ben pulled over to see what the trouble was. I was struck by how handsome he was. In the city, I had dated all the clean cut, savvy guys who looked sharper then a double edged knife, but Ben was a little more masculine somehow, and of course, tall, dark and handsome. His eyes were what drew me in. They were the kindest eyes I had ever seen. I could see the wear in them from all his years of hard work, and despite a tired appearance they were so alive with energy. A pale light blue with the most subtle green undertones, I loved the way they seemed to watch and take me in as we stood there. I was absently explaining what was wrong while being transfixed to look nowhere else but stare into his hypnotic eyes. Well eventually he looked down at my tire to make his own evaluation about the circumstance and I was forced out of my momentary trance and landed back in reality. I told him I did have a spare but unfortunately no jack stand. As luck would have it, Ben was the most prepared guy I could've run into that night, not only did he have a stand, but the back of his red truck looked like a whole auto supply store! He certainly wouldn't be stuck anywhere with car troubles for very long! Looking back I still find it odd though, that a man who so loved working on cars could not stand to be dirty. Seems to me that those two go hand in hand, but Ben somehow manages to be the cleanest car mechanic I have ever seen.
After replacing my shredded tire with the spare, Ben offered me his phone number, just in case I had anymore car troubles tonight...or another night. I took the hint. Between his eyes and his deep soothing voice, I knew I would be making that call, very soon. By the following weekend we were on a picnic at the local beach. And I knew he was the man for me, when we held hands for the first time that same afternoon. He had been working up to it as we walked along the water. First gently bumping into me as our bodies swayed side to side at our slow pace, then I could feel his fingers reaching, searching for my own. Slowly, sweetly our finger entwined. His hands were much larger then my delicate, lady-like ones, but even just to the touch of his hand, I could feel the security in them. I imagined his hands, protecting me, helping me, and caressing me. You could tell a lot about a man by his hands, my mom used to tell me. I didn't understand what she had meant until that very moment.
Ben and I began seeing each other every spare moment. His schedule was always busy between work and classes, but mine was flexible and we made it work. It was only a few months later when we were out and about that he pulled over to the side of the road, among trees that oddly reminded me of the forest that first night we had met. Ben said he was hungry and out of the blue pulled a picnic basket from the bed of his truck with a rather familiar meal, in fact that same meal from our very first date. It was unusual but I went along with our sudden lunch break and we laid a blanket out over the top of the cab and he stood in the bed of the truck leaning onto the cab as I perched myself, legs crosswise on the blanket.
We ate in the silence of the woods, listening and watching the nature all around us. A chipmunk scampered out towards the truck to investigate and I dropped some food for him. He hesitantly approached as if debating all the while whether the small crumb was worth the risk of being close to these strangers. Apparently it was, but not for very long, he snatched it and scurried as fast as he could back into the undergrowth.
After we packed up our leftovers, Ben walked around the truck to open my door for me, but then blocked my way at the last moment. He had dropped down to one knee with a tiny velvet box in one hand, I gasped and realized what this peculiar afternoon had been leading up to. Before he had said a word, I shouted "YES!" and the smile that spread across his face was brighter then the sun itself. He was beaming and I was all aglow as we got back in the truck, me with a new piece of jewelry proudly displayed on a very important finger.
The wedding was simple but beautiful. We didn't waste anytime in planning it either. Only 2 months after our picnic in the woods we were man and wife, the happiest couple you could ever meet.
The next Monday I woke bright and early to some small birds singing from the maple tree outside our bedroom window. If it had been spring, this would've been a regular performance and I would've opened the windows to let the fresh air flood inside carrying the tune along with it, but in October, the bird's song was a rare treat. Ben had already left for work and other then the sweet soft song from outside, the world was silent. I hated to break that silence with by making anything to eat quite yet, so I plopped down on the love seat in the corner of the room nearest the window, and curled up under a soft chenille blanket with a book. It was a romance novel, but not the hot and steamy kind with no substance, no this book was more real. Even more to me since it was the first book I had ever gotten published. It was a fictional tale of love based on how Ben and I had met, courted and married. Of course I added a little more drama to the actual events to grab my readers and suck them in, but under all the fluff it was real.
Ben had been taking night classes at the local community college 4 years ago when I moved into town. A week after I had arrived, on my way home from the grocery store in my little Ford Focus, I had gotten my first ever flat tire. I managed to steer my car over onto the side of the road safely, but it was dark out and I was in an unfamiliar town on a deserted road surrounded by looming pine trees. I had no one nearby to call to help me or get some for me, no directory to call for a tow truck or a cab, and no knowledge of how to get my spare on, let alone a jack to do it with. I just put on my hazard lights and prayed that someone would be coming along soon, kind enough to assist me somehow. I didn't have to wait long, within 20 minutes I saw the headlights of what appeared to be a truck or SUV coming around the bend in the road about 100 yards to the north of where I sat. It was Ben, my hero then and now. Despite a late night class after a long day at work, Ben pulled over to see what the trouble was. I was struck by how handsome he was. In the city, I had dated all the clean cut, savvy guys who looked sharper then a double edged knife, but Ben was a little more masculine somehow, and of course, tall, dark and handsome. His eyes were what drew me in. They were the kindest eyes I had ever seen. I could see the wear in them from all his years of hard work, and despite a tired appearance they were so alive with energy. A pale light blue with the most subtle green undertones, I loved the way they seemed to watch and take me in as we stood there. I was absently explaining what was wrong while being transfixed to look nowhere else but stare into his hypnotic eyes. Well eventually he looked down at my tire to make his own evaluation about the circumstance and I was forced out of my momentary trance and landed back in reality. I told him I did have a spare but unfortunately no jack stand. As luck would have it, Ben was the most prepared guy I could've run into that night, not only did he have a stand, but the back of his red truck looked like a whole auto supply store! He certainly wouldn't be stuck anywhere with car troubles for very long! Looking back I still find it odd though, that a man who so loved working on cars could not stand to be dirty. Seems to me that those two go hand in hand, but Ben somehow manages to be the cleanest car mechanic I have ever seen.
After replacing my shredded tire with the spare, Ben offered me his phone number, just in case I had anymore car troubles tonight...or another night. I took the hint. Between his eyes and his deep soothing voice, I knew I would be making that call, very soon. By the following weekend we were on a picnic at the local beach. And I knew he was the man for me, when we held hands for the first time that same afternoon. He had been working up to it as we walked along the water. First gently bumping into me as our bodies swayed side to side at our slow pace, then I could feel his fingers reaching, searching for my own. Slowly, sweetly our finger entwined. His hands were much larger then my delicate, lady-like ones, but even just to the touch of his hand, I could feel the security in them. I imagined his hands, protecting me, helping me, and caressing me. You could tell a lot about a man by his hands, my mom used to tell me. I didn't understand what she had meant until that very moment.
Ben and I began seeing each other every spare moment. His schedule was always busy between work and classes, but mine was flexible and we made it work. It was only a few months later when we were out and about that he pulled over to the side of the road, among trees that oddly reminded me of the forest that first night we had met. Ben said he was hungry and out of the blue pulled a picnic basket from the bed of his truck with a rather familiar meal, in fact that same meal from our very first date. It was unusual but I went along with our sudden lunch break and we laid a blanket out over the top of the cab and he stood in the bed of the truck leaning onto the cab as I perched myself, legs crosswise on the blanket.
We ate in the silence of the woods, listening and watching the nature all around us. A chipmunk scampered out towards the truck to investigate and I dropped some food for him. He hesitantly approached as if debating all the while whether the small crumb was worth the risk of being close to these strangers. Apparently it was, but not for very long, he snatched it and scurried as fast as he could back into the undergrowth.
After we packed up our leftovers, Ben walked around the truck to open my door for me, but then blocked my way at the last moment. He had dropped down to one knee with a tiny velvet box in one hand, I gasped and realized what this peculiar afternoon had been leading up to. Before he had said a word, I shouted "YES!" and the smile that spread across his face was brighter then the sun itself. He was beaming and I was all aglow as we got back in the truck, me with a new piece of jewelry proudly displayed on a very important finger.
The wedding was simple but beautiful. We didn't waste anytime in planning it either. Only 2 months after our picnic in the woods we were man and wife, the happiest couple you could ever meet.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Teach Me Tuesday: Writing Tools
While I believe most know how to use this wonderful invention, I wonder how many truly do. I find it to be an invaluable tool as I write. It is the Thesaurus.I would be willing to bet that anyone who enjoys writing, and does it regularly, keeps a dictionary beside them on their writing desk (or in my case on my end table nearest where I usually sit to type on our laptop). But how many people keep a thesaurus within reach? I don't dare to guess, as I know few writers, but my hope would be quite a few.
With a thesaurus I am able to sit here and write my poetry, stories, and even my blog with what I hope would be an air of grace about them. I hate to be too repetitive, constantly using the same word over and over again throughout a piece. I personally find it dull to read something that has been written like that, and would quickly loose interest. But as a sometimes sleep deprived mom, I find I need help to find a variety of words that can all be interchangeable to a point. It also gives more specification in writing as readers have a chance to more clearly grasp at what you want them too with each additional descriptive word.
For example, did you know that if you looked up 'disaster', you will find 44 other words to possibly suit your need! Some are more specific to a particular type of disaster: casualty, rainy day, and bankruptcy; and some would work generally: catastrophe, calamity, and tragedy.
It also words in the reverse. Think back to those old lessons in elementary school, do you remember the term 'synonyms'? how about 'antonyms'? While the synonyms are words meaning the essentially the same thing, antonyms are words meaning the opposite. So if you need a word to describe the exact opposite of 'variety', you could look that up in the thesaurus and find the options 'equality' or 'similarity'.
Of course you must also know the meaning behind those words, so a dictionary is another necessary implement to keep on hand (if you don't already!). Another one of my personal favorites is a rhyming dictionary, but that one is more for fun! I use that if I am writing a poem and I need a rhyme, though most of the poems I have written do not actually rhyme anyway. Still I think it is something that will be fun to use as my children grow and marvel at the amusement a good rhyme will bring.
Overall I find these treasures to be such gifts to me as a writer. A dictionary and thesaurus are my paint sets; Words are the colors of my art form. I love to use a variety of vibrant and brilliant colors as I paint my word pictures; a dictionary and thesaurus allow me to do so!
What have you learned this week?
Monday, July 5, 2010
Story Time: And Then There Were Three (Part 2)
As requested by at least one friend, I will add to my story of last week since no one else did. I will post another link if someone would like to join me this time as well, but it will only be open a week before I may add another segment myself!
Interrupting my moment of solitude, Digger, our chocolate lab scratched at the door. Right on time, he did this every night around six o'clock to demand he be fed. I would worry if he didn't. I got up from the couch and dragged my feet into the tiny kitchen. Struggling around my protruding belly, I squatted and eventually was able to reach back under the sink to scoop out a cupful of Digger's favorite organic dog food. He was almost as picky an eater as a human would be! As a puppy, when we first bought him from the farm up on Buck Road, he would refuse to eat what we gave him. It took us weeks, not to mention several dozen bags of food- dog food is not cheap, to discover a kind he liked.
Unlike his difficult to please appetite, he was quite content to being an outside dog. He was never allowed in our house, but wandered mostly from the garage to the yard which had a very comfortable and modern dog house, as far as those go. Nothing about even the harshest weather, thunder storms, hail, and the buckets and buckets of rain that poured on our little town in upstate Maine, seemed to phase him. If it was winter he preferred the garage, sleeping next to the space heater I would hook up to keep the chill away. Then in the spring, he would take up residence once again in his dog house. And before the fall gave way to the truly frigid weather, he seemed to favor neither, sometimes even opting to just sit between my dying rose bushes in the muddy soil. Such an odd dog sometimes, but I loved him all the same.
Digger had been our first baby, when Ben and I had struggled to conceive. We spent nearly sixteen months it seemed, always waiting and watching for the double pink line on the pregnancy test. I never thought it would be that difficult to get pregnant. After all I had many friends from church who would share their blessed news only a month or two after getting married! How could it come so easy for them, and while I, who watched everything I ate, took vitamins and supplements galore, swore off caffeine and alcohol long ago, and jogged for an hour each morning, couldn't seem to get that elusive bun in the oven to bake! Of course as fate would have it, as soon as we had started the paperwork for an adoption, the Lord had decided to finally give us our heart's desire.
One early morning in the middle of March, frost on the window from an everlasting winter, I woke up, stretched my arms high, caught a whiff of the bacon my loving husband was making for breakfast, and quickly had to dash into the bathroom, heaving as I ran! Something was different, I could feel it, and later that morning, Ben and I celebrated the long anticipated appearance of those two pink lines that we had begun to think would never show up!
After pausing to reflect over all that had happened in the last two years, Digger reminded me he was waiting for his dinner with another scratch at the door. He was beginning to wear out the bottom of my back door. Where once it had been a scarlet red, towards the bottom it now faded into the worn wood showing through the paint in many tiny crevices that where an exact match to Digger's front right claws. I gripped the top of the counter and used my arms to help pull myself back up into a standing position, though my knees were painfully protesting this change in position. I waddled over to the door in the corner of the kitchen that led out to our small yard, and opened the door as Digger backed away to make a path for me. I took the two steps off the door stoop very carefully and dumped the food into one of his empty bowls. The other bowl I filled with water using our old patched up garden hose. Digger instantly went to work clearing his dishes of any trace of dinner, then went around the corner of the house to the side where his favorite rose bushes were, with the perfect Digger-sized gap between them in the mud, as I made my way back inside to begin preparations for a late meal to share with Ben.
I snacked on some crunchy carrots as I boiled the water for the spaghetti noodles. The crunch of the crisp carrots as I chewed echoed loudly in my ears as I was distracted watching a blue jay hoping around on the window sill. I jumped when I felt the two arms attempt to wrap around my extra-large midsection. After the initial surprise wore off, I relaxed into the warm body standing behind me and closed my eyes. I turned to try and bury my face into Ben's chest, but failed as I craned my neck just to be able rest the top of my head against him. My belly was squeezed in between us, and as if trying to be included in this tender moment, our little one gave her- or his- Daddy a sharp kick. If only I could freeze time, I would stay here forever.
All to soon, Ben brushed his lips against the top of my head and planted a kiss somewhere in my tangle of brown curls, before taking a step back and asking "What's for dinner?"
"Spaghetti," I said as I walked to the stove, salted the water, and poured some noodles into the now boiling pot of water. "Should be ready in about 15 minutes, if you want to get a quick shower in while I finish."
"Sounds good."
As Ben headed into the bedroom, stripping off his shirt before he was even halfway down the hall, I was mesmerized by his half naked backside. I was more in love with him now then I had ever been. The love I had for him was so overwhelming sometimes, that I wondered how I could still contain so much affection for him, and share it with our baby as well. Would my love be split in half between the two, or could my heart possibly handle even more love and devotion, doubly what it contained now?
What happens next? Its up to you!
Interrupting my moment of solitude, Digger, our chocolate lab scratched at the door. Right on time, he did this every night around six o'clock to demand he be fed. I would worry if he didn't. I got up from the couch and dragged my feet into the tiny kitchen. Struggling around my protruding belly, I squatted and eventually was able to reach back under the sink to scoop out a cupful of Digger's favorite organic dog food. He was almost as picky an eater as a human would be! As a puppy, when we first bought him from the farm up on Buck Road, he would refuse to eat what we gave him. It took us weeks, not to mention several dozen bags of food- dog food is not cheap, to discover a kind he liked.
Unlike his difficult to please appetite, he was quite content to being an outside dog. He was never allowed in our house, but wandered mostly from the garage to the yard which had a very comfortable and modern dog house, as far as those go. Nothing about even the harshest weather, thunder storms, hail, and the buckets and buckets of rain that poured on our little town in upstate Maine, seemed to phase him. If it was winter he preferred the garage, sleeping next to the space heater I would hook up to keep the chill away. Then in the spring, he would take up residence once again in his dog house. And before the fall gave way to the truly frigid weather, he seemed to favor neither, sometimes even opting to just sit between my dying rose bushes in the muddy soil. Such an odd dog sometimes, but I loved him all the same.
Digger had been our first baby, when Ben and I had struggled to conceive. We spent nearly sixteen months it seemed, always waiting and watching for the double pink line on the pregnancy test. I never thought it would be that difficult to get pregnant. After all I had many friends from church who would share their blessed news only a month or two after getting married! How could it come so easy for them, and while I, who watched everything I ate, took vitamins and supplements galore, swore off caffeine and alcohol long ago, and jogged for an hour each morning, couldn't seem to get that elusive bun in the oven to bake! Of course as fate would have it, as soon as we had started the paperwork for an adoption, the Lord had decided to finally give us our heart's desire.
One early morning in the middle of March, frost on the window from an everlasting winter, I woke up, stretched my arms high, caught a whiff of the bacon my loving husband was making for breakfast, and quickly had to dash into the bathroom, heaving as I ran! Something was different, I could feel it, and later that morning, Ben and I celebrated the long anticipated appearance of those two pink lines that we had begun to think would never show up!
After pausing to reflect over all that had happened in the last two years, Digger reminded me he was waiting for his dinner with another scratch at the door. He was beginning to wear out the bottom of my back door. Where once it had been a scarlet red, towards the bottom it now faded into the worn wood showing through the paint in many tiny crevices that where an exact match to Digger's front right claws. I gripped the top of the counter and used my arms to help pull myself back up into a standing position, though my knees were painfully protesting this change in position. I waddled over to the door in the corner of the kitchen that led out to our small yard, and opened the door as Digger backed away to make a path for me. I took the two steps off the door stoop very carefully and dumped the food into one of his empty bowls. The other bowl I filled with water using our old patched up garden hose. Digger instantly went to work clearing his dishes of any trace of dinner, then went around the corner of the house to the side where his favorite rose bushes were, with the perfect Digger-sized gap between them in the mud, as I made my way back inside to begin preparations for a late meal to share with Ben.
I snacked on some crunchy carrots as I boiled the water for the spaghetti noodles. The crunch of the crisp carrots as I chewed echoed loudly in my ears as I was distracted watching a blue jay hoping around on the window sill. I jumped when I felt the two arms attempt to wrap around my extra-large midsection. After the initial surprise wore off, I relaxed into the warm body standing behind me and closed my eyes. I turned to try and bury my face into Ben's chest, but failed as I craned my neck just to be able rest the top of my head against him. My belly was squeezed in between us, and as if trying to be included in this tender moment, our little one gave her- or his- Daddy a sharp kick. If only I could freeze time, I would stay here forever.
All to soon, Ben brushed his lips against the top of my head and planted a kiss somewhere in my tangle of brown curls, before taking a step back and asking "What's for dinner?"
"Spaghetti," I said as I walked to the stove, salted the water, and poured some noodles into the now boiling pot of water. "Should be ready in about 15 minutes, if you want to get a quick shower in while I finish."
"Sounds good."
As Ben headed into the bedroom, stripping off his shirt before he was even halfway down the hall, I was mesmerized by his half naked backside. I was more in love with him now then I had ever been. The love I had for him was so overwhelming sometimes, that I wondered how I could still contain so much affection for him, and share it with our baby as well. Would my love be split in half between the two, or could my heart possibly handle even more love and devotion, doubly what it contained now?
What happens next? Its up to you!
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Story Time: And Then There Were Three
It was a chilly wet day in October. I was walking home from the store burdened by my plastic grocery bags. I thought, at least the rain has stopped, as I ventured on my shortcut between two old houses, one looking as if it would fall apart the next time a slight breeze passed this way. Luckily it had been abandoned long ago, so it seemed like it would have little effect if any on the town. Probably wouldn't even rate an article in the Daily Beat, our small town's pathetic excuse for a newspaper.
Endeavoring on before the break in the rain would end, I raced up the next street and planned on crossing Hadley Field, but when I came to it, I decided it would be better to finish the home stretch with buckets of water dumping down on me, then risk the puddle and mud speckled field. I should have known better then to expect the route being clear. After all it had been storming for days. And Hadley Field had on more then one occasion left me needing to be hosed down before I even considered entering the house I called home, with not even a speck of dirt or dust to be found inside.
My husband, Ben, had it in for dirt. Maybe it was because of the uncleanliness of the environment he grew up in. His father moved them around from basement to basement of friend's homes. One time they even lived under a bridge for a month! His hands were stained by the filth in which he lived, and as a child he swore he would provide better for his own family someday. And that he did. Ben often missed dinner due to the late shifts he would work at the factory where he had been employed since he was 17 years old. Over the past 10 years he had worked up to a manager position of sorts, but along with it came the need to work extra hours, likely finishing up his daily tower of paperwork. I didn't mind, while I loved my husband dearly, I enjoyed the quiet time to myself also.
I often would just sit and watch the bulge in my belly wiggle from side to side, occasionally bringing a small cringe to my face when I caught a shot in the ribs, mostly though I would just smile. On the small dark table beside the couch, I stashed my baby name list. I had it narrowed down to my top ten first and middle name combinations for each a boy or a girl. We had decided to let the gender be a surprise, though secretly I felt I would cry if it weren't a girl. Though you would think based on my long list of girl names we were undecided heading into this last month of pregnancy, we actually already had a beautiful and most perfect name picked out should we have the opportunity to use it. I still enjoyed the thrill of experimenting with other names, but the number one spot had always been Lilliana Grace. A name our little princess would one day soon share with her mother as well as her grandmother, that is if God chose to answer my desperate plea for a girl as I wished.
Now it's your turn! Lets try to keep it going through 3 to 4 posts, so don't end it right away! I look forward to seeing how others will build and transform Ben, Lilliana, and their little one into a family! Just be sure to link up with one another, I can't wait to see if this works out!
Continued here.
Endeavoring on before the break in the rain would end, I raced up the next street and planned on crossing Hadley Field, but when I came to it, I decided it would be better to finish the home stretch with buckets of water dumping down on me, then risk the puddle and mud speckled field. I should have known better then to expect the route being clear. After all it had been storming for days. And Hadley Field had on more then one occasion left me needing to be hosed down before I even considered entering the house I called home, with not even a speck of dirt or dust to be found inside.
My husband, Ben, had it in for dirt. Maybe it was because of the uncleanliness of the environment he grew up in. His father moved them around from basement to basement of friend's homes. One time they even lived under a bridge for a month! His hands were stained by the filth in which he lived, and as a child he swore he would provide better for his own family someday. And that he did. Ben often missed dinner due to the late shifts he would work at the factory where he had been employed since he was 17 years old. Over the past 10 years he had worked up to a manager position of sorts, but along with it came the need to work extra hours, likely finishing up his daily tower of paperwork. I didn't mind, while I loved my husband dearly, I enjoyed the quiet time to myself also.
I often would just sit and watch the bulge in my belly wiggle from side to side, occasionally bringing a small cringe to my face when I caught a shot in the ribs, mostly though I would just smile. On the small dark table beside the couch, I stashed my baby name list. I had it narrowed down to my top ten first and middle name combinations for each a boy or a girl. We had decided to let the gender be a surprise, though secretly I felt I would cry if it weren't a girl. Though you would think based on my long list of girl names we were undecided heading into this last month of pregnancy, we actually already had a beautiful and most perfect name picked out should we have the opportunity to use it. I still enjoyed the thrill of experimenting with other names, but the number one spot had always been Lilliana Grace. A name our little princess would one day soon share with her mother as well as her grandmother, that is if God chose to answer my desperate plea for a girl as I wished.
Now it's your turn! Lets try to keep it going through 3 to 4 posts, so don't end it right away! I look forward to seeing how others will build and transform Ben, Lilliana, and their little one into a family! Just be sure to link up with one another, I can't wait to see if this works out!
Continued here.
Story Time Link
I found a very neat tool, that I have yet to see used on another blog. When I signed up for the Linky Tools website, I discovered a whole list of different types of links. On that list was one in particular that brought back memories of my creative writing class I took in the 8th grade. In that class our teacher would occasionally have us do an exercise in writing that I just thought was really neat. We would have a set time to begin writing a story, usually along the lines of 10 minutes. After our initial 10 minutes was up we were to pass our papers forward for the next person to continue with our story! There were some very creative stories going around the room! At the end of class we would each share whatever paper we had ended up with last, usually each contained about 3-4 different authors at the end.
Now on the Linky Tools, one link up option is the Create a Story Link. Someone would start the story and then others link up to finish it! So I thought I would give this a try and see how it goes. To read the beginning of my story, and add a middle or the end, click here.
Now on the Linky Tools, one link up option is the Create a Story Link. Someone would start the story and then others link up to finish it! So I thought I would give this a try and see how it goes. To read the beginning of my story, and add a middle or the end, click here.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
An Exercise in Writing
I want to write. More then anything I wish each time I sat down at the keyboard that God would bless me with an endless flow of words. I want to paint pictures with my words, I want to inspire with my words, I want to create with my words. Just as God created man, I wish I could create my own masterpiece, to make others contemplate, wonder, explore their own hearts and minds. But it doesn't come as simply for me. My words come when they come, I cannot force them out. I may have the idea, the thought about which I want to write and share with everyone, but it simply isn't as easy to put it into words. But the feeling, once I do get the divine inspiration from heaven, is so overwhelming, sometimes I can't even sleep at night as the pen and paper, or the keyboard, just calls out my name. I have to get it out of my head before it fades away, and I am again left sitting at the computer with a blank screen and my fingers glued to the same keys just waiting for the moment to begin, flying across the keys when the words do, hopefully, eventually, come out.
Click, clack, click, it begins as an electric spark flowing from my brain, down my neck, into my arms, through my hands and finally escaping with the click, clack, click out my fingertips as I type. Oh the music to my hears to here the keyboard buzzing! I have often wished I could play the piano, make wonderful music to share with all those who could hear, but I find myself now just content and happy when I am able to play on the keyboard of my computer, its almost like music and the words are my notes. But all music, even good music, must have an ending. And too soon, I am speechless again, the keyboard is silent, my thoughts have returned to those of the dull, day to day chores variety. But at least, no matter how occasionally, I am able to write again.
This is one of my exercises in writing, I just sit down an write whatever comes to mind, usually not quite this fluid but I liked this one! Its just something to do when I want to write but don't feel like I can, or don't know what to write about! I actually think its fun and I totally recommend it to anyone even if you do it just when you get bored!
Click, clack, click, it begins as an electric spark flowing from my brain, down my neck, into my arms, through my hands and finally escaping with the click, clack, click out my fingertips as I type. Oh the music to my hears to here the keyboard buzzing! I have often wished I could play the piano, make wonderful music to share with all those who could hear, but I find myself now just content and happy when I am able to play on the keyboard of my computer, its almost like music and the words are my notes. But all music, even good music, must have an ending. And too soon, I am speechless again, the keyboard is silent, my thoughts have returned to those of the dull, day to day chores variety. But at least, no matter how occasionally, I am able to write again.
This is one of my exercises in writing, I just sit down an write whatever comes to mind, usually not quite this fluid but I liked this one! Its just something to do when I want to write but don't feel like I can, or don't know what to write about! I actually think its fun and I totally recommend it to anyone even if you do it just when you get bored!
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