The other day when I took my husband to work, I noticed a book. (BTW, he works at a book store.) It was a book on drawing. Of course, such books always draw my attention, and this one did no less. But, this time, as I looked through it, I remembered the joys of seeing a pictures develop on a page and of looking at what I had created and a streak of creativity sprung up from deep inside.
I've had these streaks spring up before, but this time a friend also had a poetry reading at her place, which fostered this streak a bit more. As I listened to the others read their favorite poems and poems they had written, the desire to write grew inside of me. I took that desire and ran with it. I wrote and wrote, about things I had felt at some time or about something I thought. I wrote about little things like not wanting to get out of bed, and about big things, like missing Mom. None of it is very long, but its a start. Perhaps, eventually, my creative writing will grow and fully mature into something beautiful. But even if remains a stunted expression of my inward creativity, that's okay, because even stunted expressions are better than nothing!
And I think I'll keep my eye on that book. Drawing would be fun, too!
Rachael's ponderings and ramblings about life, teaching, gardening, knitting, home keeping and the various other topics and hobbies that prompt her interest.
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