Writing has always been a safe haven—like time spent with a close friend. Happy or sad, words pour out, and with them my heart. For me, there is no expression quite as pure. Whether the pen flows onto a blank page or keystrokes fill my computer screen, I am lost in the moment of creation. Suddenly, mystery gives way to the internal “ah-ha!” And my mind, once jumbled, takes the great tumble as words fall to the page. When did this all start? Early on.
* * *
“Let’s write our thank you notes,” Moma said, as she sat my brothers and me around the kitchen table.
“Oh,” they groaned, “We just opened our Christmas presents this morning. Do we have to NOW?
“Yes, you do,” came Moma’s quick reply, along with her I’ll-have-no-nonsense look. Bob and Bill sighed, picked up their pencils and wrote the two sentences that Moma required: Thank you for the _______________. I like it because ______________.
I, on the other hand, I was delighted with the task. Too young to wield a pencil, I dove into the old orange Saralee fruitcake tin filled with half broken crayons that Moma set in front of me. I began to scribble and giggle as color overtook the page. “Look, Moma!” I exclaimed as I held up my handiwork.
Moma smiled and sang, “Oh, that’s beautiful. Aunt Blanche and Uncle Joe will love it!”
Those bright rainbow sticks were soon replaced by pens and pencils, and the scrawls with words in hundreds of cards, letters and journals. I must confess most of my creativity with words these days is at a computer. Still, my love for writing is front and center, perhaps because it is one of the few constants in my otherwise once stumbling, now tumbling life.
How About You?
What is it that captivates you? You know the thing you do that erases the passage of time? Minutes, hours, entire days and nights can get swallowed up by this particular passion. I’ve told you mine. What’s yours?