Sometimes this keyboard is not my friend. Not because I create some technological anomaly, which I do from time to time, but because I sit here and realize that I owe you all a story. Why? Because you are spending your precious minutes ”looking over my shoulder while I ponder life.” It is such an honor to read your comments, page views, and to see you repost my musings on your social media. In a writer’s world, this is huge!
My purpose in this blog is to live life and record the journey. Sometimes I do so through the perspective of a mother, grandmother, teacher, citizen, pet owner, church lady, and on and on it goes. You know how many hats you wear in a day: I try to unravel the moments under these hats in words to make you smile, weep, wonder, or escape.
Often times, I feel like my life’s microscope is all steamed up and fuzzy. But you bear with me and I face the keyboard with your encouragement. I jump on each letter until some kind of drivel arrives on the screen. I have to admit….some days it is hard. Not because my life is so complicated and dark, but the balance between being entertaining and authentic is kind of like driving on the shoulder of the highway. You know it is not a real lane, but getting from point A to point B is just too hard in the fast lane. There are days I want to park the car and start walking in any direction the feet can take me and leave all of the responsibilities behind. Sounds exotic, rebellious, freeing. And then you see it: ROADKILL. That lil ole’ possum who tired to waddle across the road one too many times. BAM! Now it is lunch for the crows. Isn’t that imagery just lovely? Well….it is if you are a crow.
My point is this: I live and tell about it. You read my interpretation and then we connect. Perhaps you laugh, sigh, or grimace at the string of sentences I throw down here. But you affirm that somehow logging on to this tattle-tale blog is worth of your precious minutes. What an honor.
Thank you for reading, ‘The Ongoing Stories of My Soul’. Without you, there would no reason to ever sit in front of this tablet and stack my words. My students often ask me how I get the ideas to write my stories. Well, the stories find ME like a door that opens and closes. But the door in itself is not the story. It is when anger slams the door and emotions must be translated. Or when the finger gets smashed in the door and pain is offloaded in a disturbing narrative. Or, the door magically opens and opportunity and adventure abound. And yes, sometimes the door must be locked and never opened again, if the soul is to survive that story.
But a story has a soul. And a soul has a story; where one leaves off and the other begins is unknown. But suffice it to say, that your meeting me here at this blog gladdens this heart in ways you will never know. My niece gave me a silver box with a quote from Ernest Hemingway which says:
“The writer must write what he has to say. Not speak it.”
Which means nothing until you, the reader, comes along and breathes life into it. My, what a gift! This writer is honored. Thank you.