Forever Young: November 2012

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!

Thursday, November 1, 2012

You want it?

She kept her eyes down on her Kindle, her head bent forward as she masked her interest in the young child playing in the sand near the edge of the perimeter of the playground.   This one was within easy reach.

Her hand twitched and trembled. She kept still with great difficulty.   Breathe, breathe, she told herself, willing her body to remain seated.    Not yet, not yet. but soon. soon her hands would be full and busy with purpose.

For now, she waited.

The leaves rustled in the wind. The shade moved and parted leaving dappled bits of sun into her eyes. Warmth on her cheeks.   Her stiff fingers were cold to the touch.   She glanced at the kindle trying to find her place and realized she had been absentmindedly been clicking the pages along uncomprehending.
She headed backward into the book to synch with the story, to pick up the threads of the plot. She winced at the awkward storytelling and hot mess of cliches that the author resorted to unrepentant.

I can write better than this. She thought.

Movement on the playground, children in chase of one another.   Randomness circling round and getting closer, closer to where she was.   A ball rolled to the bench and she stopped it with her feet.

The child came forward to retrieve it, but she placed her feet firmly over it holding it in place. He stopped in front of her unsure of how to proceed. She rolled it around with the ball of her foot and brought it closer to the bench, tucking it out of sight.

The child looked at her. He was not scared, but he was wary. She smiled a mischievous smile at him. Ball all gone. she told him.

Ball all gone.

No it isn't. he declared indignant. It's under the bench. She hooked it and drew it forward to the front of her.

You want it?   Come get it.    she smiled as she glanced at the parents and caregivers to see if anyone was watching.

Come on.    she pretended to let it go and he darted in. Her foot came down hard, just missing his little hand in the dirt.

And again.    Come on. you want it?

A concerned parent wandered closer. She let the ball bounce away and the boy threw himself onto it with delight and triumph.

She smiled at the father.    Your boy is adorable, she said. He returned her smile and lingered looking over her body and taking in the long loose brilliant red hair she wore in wild curls about her shoulders. The sun picked up the highlights in her hair making her look a bit like a back lit angel in a made for tv movie.

She did not blend in easily in crowds.