I remember the day I got my first writing journal from mom. She looked like a woman with great intentions behind her eyes. ”Mom you shouldn’t have.” I said with excitement.
“Well it seems like you need it.” She replied.
I looks up at her with small tears in my eyes. A moment pure of joy, then looked at my dad. Dad always looked at me with such a distinct look. A cross between, precious breakable doll, and my little rock star. He let out that smile.
“Take it. Use it. Love it because you enjoy it.” Mom said.
I pondered that thought for a moment. All those poems on poorly drawn out, birthday, Christmas, mother’s day, and father’s day cards… It led me here.
“Oh mom!” I jumped up and wrapped my arms around here, continued to say, “Thank you, thank you, thank you I love it!”
It took me a week to fill it up. I began these short story sagas, I wrote poetry, and I Spoke to this book as if it could answer all my philosophical questions magically through the universe.
I used it.
I remember the feeling of dread weighing over me as I was on my last two pages. I walked into the kitchen one morning before school thinking, “I have one page left. Now what will I do?” Mom noticed this thought process and asked, “What’s was wrong.” I grabbed my journal and showed her, “Well I love it so much I hadn’t realized I would be gone so quick. I guess it was a cool gift while it lasted.”
“Oh.” She nodded her head. End of story. I went to school, forgot about the book, and then went home.
As I walked in the door, I noticed a bigger notebook sitting in plain sight upon the kitchen table. I moved along to grab my after school snack, and mom spoke.
“How was your day?”
It was good. What’s that for?”
“Thought you needed a journal, didn’t you?”
I used to admire this look mom gave me. She gave me a wink with such a prominent confidence I couldn’t help but think “Alright, yeah you’re right, I got this.”
I took it with a great big smile. 😀
I asked why once… I really did wonder.
“Dad… Why does mom buy me so many journals?”
“Because as long as there is a hunger, she will fuel the fire.”
So I wrote. Everyday. By the time I was 17, I had a full novel in tow. Amazing right!!!!
Not so much: / for those of you who are only tuning in now, you can find out why here.
Writing is a beautiful thing to me. I am grateful everyday mom encouraged that in me. Dad encouraged my music and together music and writing are my guiding light in life.
Nothing fulfills me more than doing these every day.
In ten minutes I’ll feed your desires and post a poem 😉