The flame stretches, arm out to the world
Shivering in the cold air of a quiet room
A sweet spot exposed, where the flame meets the wick
encompassed by a shimmering puddle of hot turquoise wax
The whiteness of the newly exposed wick, and see the charred blackness within the flame
Darkness needed to fuel the light
The fire reaches down, turns light to dark, and becomes brighter
Blues, oranges and yellows rise to the silent occasion, becoming more brilliant as the moments pass
Flickering in the open air
Brilliance lighting the hidden corners, with hints of charred blackness
Today, there are no fevers. Just blue skies and fresh snow, calling for slippery snowpants and footprints.
Devilish smiles when glancing down a slide that’s filled with snow…
And proud exclamations
Look Mommy! A biiig snowball!!
And these cheeks. And little red nose. And the watery eyes that leave single tears… Oh. My. Goodness.
We all desperately needed that hour of fresh air this morning. In the worst way.
Especially me. Because in about twenty minutes, my 6 week writing class starts, and I’m a bundle of nerves and nervous energy. It’s online, and sounds similar to classes I’ve taken previously, but it’s six weeks, twelve assignments, of writing. Creative writing. And it’s something just for me. Which I really truly need right now. So I’m excited, but very nervous. Anxious. Ready for it to start, and to see what’s in store for me and diving into the craft.
So this morning, I needed that breath of fresh air to push the nerves aside, to know I’ll be just fine – even if we lost one of Paige’s boots on our way outside and didn’t realize until after she soaked through her sock… had to come back in and relive the whole stuffing everyone into snowsuits and boots a second time…
Smiling at me
Nothing but blue skies
Do I see
~Irving Berlin, Blue Skies
I love words. My problem is, I get stuck using the same ones over and over. Simple ones, hardly big ones, and then when I hear words I like, I can never remember them later to use them. Does that make sense?
I started and finished The Time Traveler’s Wife this week. Well, I thought I was just rereading it before going to see the movie this coming weekend, turns out I never read it. I might have started it… but couldn’t get into it at that point in life. Honestly, I think it was one of those my mom gave this to me to read, what was she thinking? phases where I really only wanted to read Bridget Jonesey type stories…
In any case, I read it in a matter of four nights. I loved it. Every single word of it. It was brilliant. Some of the sentences were so well put together I just sat there and reread them because they were beautiful.
Really good thought provoking books that I can somewhat identify with (no, Lucas is not a time traveler, but it was such a sweet love story that I couldn’t help gazing longingly at him a few times and think how lucky I am to have someone that I’m so in love with be in the present time) do two things to me. They make me say I could do that – I could write a great story! and they make me say how in the world could I write like that?
Sometimes I think I’d like to write. Really write, like it’s my job. Not just the few minutes blogging takes a day. But then, I wonder how I’d come up with the beautiful sentences that I love to read, because I’d want to write what I want to read. I don’t know. It could happen, but I think I need to study a dictionary for the next few years…
And seriously, how does one come up with ideas that I can’t even wrap my head around? My brain gets so twisted around trying to think of the comings and goings in that story. If you’ve read it, you know exactly what I mean. My mind keeps running through the words, beautiful words are hard to get past.