100 Words and Another Year
Oh word-nerds, you’ve outdone yourselves! 19 entries this past week for “road trip”, and as always, quite an array of takes on the prompt. Really, that is my favorite part of this whole thing – seeing the similarities and the wild differences among writing minds. Sci-fi, drama, comedy – you covered it all.
In other news, it is my birthday week. I don’t know when birthday turned into birthday week as a trend, but who am I to stay entrenched in the outdated and irrelevant? I’m not feeling the big party thing this year so have planned just a small dinner with my closest (emotionally and geographically) family members, and maybe a couple of friends. I’ve been salivating over the menu of a local restaurant I haven’t tried, so we’ll be going there. And I won’t tell you how old I’ll be, I’ll only say that I’m old enough to know better, but still young enough to think I have time to do it right later.
Ah wisdom, such an elusive power.
I have this photo of myself as a child. A black and white shot in a park in Burlington, VT where my young mother was living and trying to support me on a waitress salary. I seem large for my age in the photo – giant hands, giant feet poking out from under the hem of my pants, a giant head and mouth. It is an illusion, I’ve always been small. Sometimes I stare into the eyes of this photo, study the face that is so familiar and yet so changed. Try to remember what it felt like to be four with a halo of white hair, wiping the dust of the playground on my shirt. What that dust felt like on my bare feet. Try to remember the thoughts that produced that impish smile. And all I can conjure is the smell of sunshine, and the strange thumping of feet to earth.
It seemed fitting to invite Shel Silverstein to provide us with our word prompt this week, from Falling Up (and a poem about swinging):