This morning, Lucy and I sit at our dining table. I have some music playing and freely type away, while my daughter sites with tears in her eyes. She doesn't know what to write. I took the liberty of bringing out a couple of my journals for her to see. One from 4th grade, one from 1987 and one that was begun in 2003 (The last entry was February 2008 on an airplane home from San Francisco....a weekend away to celebrate turning 40 with my friends.)I currently have three working journals - and this blog. I am passionate about words and I wish i was able to retain the eloquence of this language. It impresses me. While Lucy hides her words from me with her book upright; hiding within what she assumes to be the judgement of her mother.
I look out to the sunroom and Simon is at it on his own blog. He has the gift of words as well.
I have never planned to do anything with these words that spill out from me as they are just that....spillage from the mind. Hardly significant; just doin' my thing and finding small celebrations within chosen text.
Last night, I played Scrabble with the kids. The 12 year old, who has struggled with words, performed with three letter and four letter words: Bone, Cat, Did. The 10 year old added words such as: Newt, Judge, Simmer, and Wharf.
Daybook time is over. Thanks for listening.
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