I have worked on this piece for many years and spent time revising it in the last 48 hours. I envision teachers of writing reading it to their students and using it as a mentor text to have them list ideas for narrative writing topics in their writer’s notebooks.
The waning sun hangs patiently in twilight’s last hour, casting a golden orange slow-glow on her bedroom wall.
To most eyes and ears, it has been an ordinary day – full of nothings and no matters. To her, it was a celebratory day. Perfect. Memorable. A string of small moments seared into her mind.
Would others have noticed what she had? No. It is unlikely. But she, as a young soul and writer, noticed more than most. You see, that’s what writers and young people are supposed to do – they notice the small details in life that others do not, what others might take for granted. The small details that most completely miss because their feet move too quickly and their eyes and ears are simply, yet mournfully, closed.
She lays in that golden orange slow-glow of twilight and remembers…
Hearing her Mama’s laughter in the morning – from the porch…loud, and with the occasional….snort. Laughter that makes you want to laugh out loud too, even if you missed what was just…so…funny.
Scooping up that ugly rock by the creek’s edge – now resting lovingly amongst her most highly-regarded treasures on her bureau. A rock, her expert stone-seeking brother would have skipped right past. But no, it deserved attention. It had personality, like she. It told a story.
There was the vanilla scent caught, of a neighbor-lady strolling by, that flashed memories into her brain of her Nana, long gone, but always taking up a whole huge and gigantic part of the young girl’s thoughts and heart.
A smile-to-yourself-moment, a surprising discovery actually, of a never-ever before seen guest to the birdhouse. A small, brownish gray mouse – its back feet grasping a slender branch, a twig really. Its tiny paws perched oh, so, daintily on the ledge, enjoying the seeds and sunshine, thankful to its feathered friends for a few moments of space and peace.
And lastly, yummily, there was the still lingering taste, the unforgettable taste, of “breakfast for dinner” – peanut butter banana chocolate chip pancakes – Daddy’s specialty, cooked just for her and only for her.
As twilight’s golden orange slow-glow has all but faded, the girl sends a wondering, a message really, into the darkening sky for all the children of the world to breathe in…for all those who are listening, really listening….
What will you notice this day and the next?
Sweet dreams, wonderful world.