Writing is a form of self expression. The image to the left is a picture of me and one of my best friends Maren Dille. Maren is a writer. She loves books and she loves stories. I hope that one day her books will be published and I can say that I know her. (and you can say that you heard about her before she was famous). I want you to enjoy writing like she does. Like I do. Writing is a form of communication that opens doors and windows to the soul, to humour, to healing, and to understanding. I want you to put thought and effort into your stories. Some stories take years to write and some just flow from the brain and heart to the fingertips. Some stories are written to inform, some for laughter, some for tears, some for action, and some for etc. Find what you want to share with the world and post it here.
1 comment:
Dear Amanda,
I had a weird dream the other night, and since you ask for stories this is how it went...
I awoke to someone in the house yelling "The neighborhood is on fire!" I ran to the front window where Dad and the kids joined me. One of the kids shouted to us, "Over there, behind you," pointing a finger towards the back window in the kitchen. Dad saw the orange reflection of the fire in the front window. We both turned and ran to the kitchen to see that the next street was in flames. I felt the panic rise within me. Dad and the kids ran outside with no thought of what was to happen, and I was left alone in the house. I knew I had to grab important stuff, but all I could see were things. My eyes scanned the room again, and my eyes in fear of what would be lost fell on the few pictures I left beside the computer.
The outside noise prompted me to grab the pictures and head out the front door to the side of the house where Dad and the kids waited , watching the fire. People from our neighborhood gathered around us, and I noticed they had empty hands. They seemed relaxed and that gave me faith that everything would be okay. At that last thought it began to rain.
I went inside my house where all was the same. I looked out the back window. All was dark and I hadn't flipped the light switch, but I could see that people were in my yard. They were pulling up my grass, and then from behind them came people putting in new grass. I asked "why?'
I'll end there because there is more, but for time sake.
Love Mom
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