I explored further up river by skipping. Or hopping. Or jumping. Or simply letting myslf fall across the gap between stones that poked up from the water like the warm backs of turtles. Turtlestones -no- more like turtlerocks or turtleboulders. Or maybe turtlesteppingstones? Menono... turtlestones works.
I'd crouch down and extend my leg from the turtleboulder that i was on to the small turtlestone that would take me one stone closer to... well, my destination, wherever that was.
Mom was there, and it wouldn't have been half the experiance it was without her. Her calming presence and willingness to go wherever it was that I was going was... typical. I know that whichever road I choose, my Mother will be there, my trusty steed forevermore wether I like it or not.
I hate blank pages. But when I see one I cant help feeling ba for it. You might say that they're jst waiting to be filled, but what if there was a forgotten little paper. Growing old and coated in dust. Then finally being found with this newfound hope trys to glow whiter. I must be irisistable! it thinks. I'll finally have a story to tell! But, alas, the victory is short-lived and it getts balled up in the trash. So whenever I see a blank page I cant help but write or draw or give it it's own story to tell. I think everything should have it's own story. Don't you? Don't you want to fill those little papers' hearts with hope and joy and adventure? I know I do.
But what ifthere were blank-page-people? No- not what if- where are. I think that everyone is born a blank page. We're just waiting for something to give us a story to tell. How would you feel if you were that old paper, forgotten in a corner. Destined to end up in a ball in the trash. I thik no one should be that dust coated blank page. everyone should have a story to tell. Just because you're down does not mean you dont have a story to tell. So keep on telling you're story, little page. And if you ever have doubt, believe in your self. Because you are just as capable, just as strong as the person sitting next to you. So be your own person and tell the world your story.
Just to clarify, I know I'm going on a grand adventure across an ocean for a month with some friends that i met when I was cruising for 13 months and going from Alaska down to the end of Mexico. But why didn't I write abut it Because I honestly don't choose what I write. that last post, it was sopposed to be about eggs in a nest with a momma sitting on them in the back yard of the house we're renting while we prepare The boat to go in the water to go on a grand adventure across an ocean for a month with some friends that i met when I was cruising for 13 months and going from Alaska down to the end of Mexico. But instead, it was an inspiring piece about writing your own story and blank-page-people. I don't write with my hands. I believe with all my heart and soal.
Yes, your mom will always be there for you as I am here for her (and you). Love her - even when you don't feel like it. An aspect of growing up is wanting to be free - but not free from parents' love.ReplyDelete