Imagine the Possibilities

I am participating in the March Slice of Life Story Challenge. Thanks to the co-authors of              Two Writing Teachers for creating this  supportive community.

A few days ago fellow slicer, Lynne Dorfman, included a poem about flowers in her post. It spoke to all the things giving them can mean or say. And I remembered this story:

I once had a coworker who was one of the most thoughtful people I have ever known. She always remembered birthdays and anniversaries. Even after I moved to another school and she retired to raise her family, I would get a card or an email on my birthday.

I was so happy when, several years later, her children attended the elementary school where I worked. During those years I would find a small bouquet of flowers tucked under the windshield wiper on my birthday. Until one year, when I got an email instead:

Happy Birthday!  I couldn’t find your car so I left your flowers in the office. I hope you’re doing something fun and not sick.

 Turns out I had gotten a new car.

Those flowers always made me smile. To me they said, “I’m thinking of you today.”

I am participating in the March Slice of Life Story Challenge. Thanks to the co-authors of              Two Writing Teachers for creating this  supportive community.

I’m taking an online course on lyrical language. Since it is designed to help writers better understand the sounds and rhythms of words in writing, the first few lessons are specifically about poetry. I’m cheating a little today and sharing a couple of poems that I wrote for one of the assignments.

The last lesson I completed was on the dactyl, a specific poetic rhythm that I’m sure you’ll be able to pick up from my poem.

Spring Flowers

Hyacinths offer a pleasant aroma.

Daffodils glow with a golden delight.

Tulips transform the drab beds with bright color.

Gardens become a spectacular sight.

Then there’s the fun double dactyl. There are very specific rules for this poetic form, including starting with two nonsense words. You can read more about double dactyls from Amy Ludwig VanDerwater here. My attempt was influenced by Pam Munoz Ryan’s picture book Amelia and Eleanor Go for a Ride.

A Daring Escape

Overfelt Doverfelt

Eleanor Roosevelt

Had a good friend who could

Fly airplanes high.

One evening Eleanor

Unprecedentedly

Flew with Amelia

Into the sky.

I am participating in the March Slice of Life Story Challenge. Thanks to the co-authors of              Two Writing Teachers for creating this  supportive community.

Act One – The Conversation

Thursday is Pi Day. What kind would you like this year? Lemon meringue?

 Hmmmm…how about peach?

 OK. But fresh peaches might be hard to find this time of year. How about blueberry?

 Great!

 Act Two – The Preparation

After a quick stop at the grocery store yesterday, I had what I needed – blueberries, a lemon, and a package of refrigerated pie crusts. I learned a long time ago that while I love making pies, crusts are not my strong suit. Pillsbury’s are the best, in my opinion. Today I carefully washed the blueberries. The recipe I had called for six cups. The blueberries I had were measured in ounces.

“Siri, how many ounces are in six cups?” The answer came quickly. Good, I had plenty.

I measured and mixed, scooped and scraped, laced and latticed.

Almost an hour later…

Act Three – The Finished Product

Still waiting for THE END.

I am participating in the March Slice of Life Story Challenge. Thanks to the co-authors of              Two Writing Teachers for creating this  supportive community.

I pulled into the bay at the Wawa, got out of the car, and began pumping. That’s when I heard the music, the beautiful music, being sung by a tenor. I quickly realized that the source of the music was the red pickup with the white lettering that just pulled in beside me. Inside, the driver was clearly enjoying the last strains of the aria before shutting off the engine.

It was not what I was expecting. And why, I wondered? Why couldn’t a guy in work overalls driving a red pickup enjoy opera?

And then I wondered what other stereotypes I might be harboring. Maybe it’s time I look at the world a little differently, a little more openly.

Beautiful music. Thanks.

I am participating in the March Slice of Life Story Challenge. Thanks to the co-authors of              Two Writing Teachers for creating this  supportive community.

Yesterday I was searching for something on one of my book shelves and came across a small box of pennies. Opening that box transported me back to a time when I did quite a bit of staff development. To get teachers thinking and writing, I would sometimes ask them to choose a penny, look at the date it was minted, and think about what was going on in their lives at that time. Ah-ha! Maybe there’s a story for me in here just waiting to be written! I chose one…

1985 – I’m much, much younger. Married less than ten years. My kids are little, very little. Brian is ready to start kindergarten…

One sunny summer morning I pack the kids up and go to the park. Today there is something special going on – a craft fair! With Ann in a stroller and Brian by the hand, we make our way through the crowds past stands of pottery (don’t touch!), hand-knitted scarves (Mom-Mom would like this), and homemade jams (yes, you can have a sample). “Stay with me,” I warn. We linger by some handcrafted wooden toys for a few minutes, then continue on. A stand with colorful, hand-painted greeting cards catches my eye, then another with delicate silver jewelry. Suddenly, I realize there is no little boy with me, no one holding onto the end of my jacket. I race back through the crowds calling his name. My son is missing! is the only thought in my mind. Heart pounding. Tears spilling. Hands shaking. I take a deep breath and retrace my steps. One minute, two minutes, it might as well have been a hundred minutes. But then…I spot a familiar red shirt back at the stand with the wooden toys. We are reunited.

The details might be a little fuzzy, but after all these years, that feeling of sheer panic still resurfaces when I think of that time.