but there is sun today, warmth, my friend standing in the parking lot after a lunch we'd shared, pressing her face into the rays. I feel full of possibilities—writing notes into books and on this screen, rippled through with the idea of music and voice, lifted by a text from my son, now taking his second fiction workshop and exhilarated by the critique he's received just an hour ago. "They had so many positive things to say," he texted. But more than that, he has ideas for a revision, and he cannot wait to start.
You want your children to go their own way, of course you do. But when their lines cross over, into yours, when you share this unspeakable passion for this thing called writing, it's red flowers bursting through a yellow wall, in a city you once walked through, singing.
4 comments:
How utterly lovely, Beth, to have a son share your passion! My boys and I like to write Choose Your Own Adventure books with gorillas, eyeless lifeguards, haunted houses, and mysterious janitor's closets.
Alone they write mysteries about three friends called Rock, Paper, and Scissors and have made a newspaper that follows their basketball games.
I love that writing has become a natural part of their free time and our family conversations.
oh, so gorgeous. thank you for this, Caroline.
this post makes me happy :)
That is wonderful, Beth. I just came back from parent-teacher interviews, and I know what you mean. Those beautiful flowers.
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