Starting Small

I have been meaning to write again for far too long. But every time I start a post, I tend to write a few thoughts down, only to realize the thoughts are not complete. So, I bookmark the ideas in my head and save it for conversation with friends or professors. But no more.

And so, in an effort to at least begin writing, here's some writing that is readily available from my journal.

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[June 3]

His name is Walter. Alexis said he was Peter in disguise and that the blue jacket had to be hiding underneath a cabbage leaf. Unlike most of his kind, he followed us around the yard, sitting when we sat, moving when we moved. On the drive home, Mom said, "That is one classy bunny."

[April 1]

Morning prisms of ever-shifting light. Bread dough: warm, smooth, silk. A joining of families, too long kept apart. I can hear the boys laughing in the back room, exchanging jokes and sports team preferences. In the living room, the lower tones of the adults' more serious conversation happens over cups of coffee and hot tea. Flour covers my hands and spots on the kitchen floor. The small ball of dough sits, rising, in a small silver bowl.

[April 19]

Surprising grace filled the day. Crashing waves and cloud-filled skies, rolled-up jeans and rocks half-hidden in the sea. Climbing, laughing, then sitting still. Such beauty and wordless gratitude. We passed through traffic-ful lanes, wandering til we reached streets familiar and a city known.