Blog Manifesto

Blog Manifesto


This blog is dedicated, as the title would suggest, to the qualities of being young. We are young writers. We are playful and sensitive, fluid and changing. We are unashamed with our art. We wonder at the world, puzzle over the meanings of things and twirl in delight at images and ideas that float by, grabbing at them as they pass. We are curious and constantly inquiring and prying concepts open and taking assumptions apart. We are on the ground, close to the earth. We have bare feet and wiggle our toes into nature. We carry our blankies still and wrap up cozy and comfy with each other and tell ghost stories and shiver at creepy things. We laugh and we cry and we take a lot of naps, drained from our outings and exertions.

We write as gifts to each other, tying them up in ribbon and leaving them around for each other to find, hiding and waiting for the person to wake up and read. Surprise! We weave our stories together to create a bond. One writes, then the other. then another again. We have a shared reality that we have crafted, bit by piece by patch, by string. We write simple, honest authentic things, with our unique voices. You can tell each one of us from the other, without knowing who wrote what. Our voices are clear and gentle and original. We whisper and our personalities roar! Like children, our feelings are strong, our passion for what we write shakes us. We are moved and sometimes left breathless, by our own words or the words of each other. We cannonball into each others spaces. We fall backward into each others writing, like into a pile of leaves or a soft bed. We gobble and grin and ask for more. (footnote kudos to JC)

Then we go to bed, wake up to a new day and do it all over again!

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

but a silver strand



her long dark flowing hair
cut to shoulder length
so grown up

she came in curls
so adorable
grandpa spoke..
barely intelligible in his thick dominican accent

'my wife, she has the beautiful black hair.. and..'  he waves his hands in the air, trying desperately to describe it.  i am touched by his sincerity, as he tells me how sad he was when she decided to color the one long strand of silver that flowed from the middle of her forehead down to the middle of her back.. and then he stands with his back to me to show me just how long her hair is.  in his broken english he easily conveys a message of respect for her and love.  he says 'we are given this gift of aging..'  i know he means we should embrace it, honor it, and not hide it.  'it is beautiful.' 

we smile as we both look in at his granddaughter, bouncing on the piano bench.. curls dancing.

it's a nice moment.
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3 comments:

  1. RosieApril 11, 2012 at 3:44 PM

    smiles. Thanks for the beautiful story.

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  2. SharonApril 11, 2012 at 5:49 PM

    What a profound bit of wisdom. Her grandpa is fortunate to have someone to talk to and gather this gem for posterity. May we all have gem gatherers in our lives as we scatter them about on our journey.

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  3. SharonApril 15, 2012 at 12:57 AM

    I like this one even more as I reread it tonight. It's so simple but the wisdom comes shining through and not only from the grandfather but from you, JC for catching it.

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