I love a challenge to write. Its so incredibly therapeutic for me. Can almost feel magical. Like discovering new parts of my brain - my heart...my soul. So in an effort to write more I am joining Ann Dee Ellis in a memoir writing experience.
From her Day 1 prompt:
Day 1: "I remember when". Set your timer for eight minutes. Go somewhere quiet and get out your writing utensils. Write "I remember when" at the top of your page and start writing. The rules are don't edit/censor yourself. Don't worry whether what you're writing is good or bad. Don't worry who might read it. Just write whatever comes into your head. Try not to think too much. If you get stuck, write "I remember when" again and try something new. Go the full eight minutes without stopping. If you want to keep going, great. If not, great. If you feel like it, comment about how it went. Happy writing!"
I remember.
I remember my grandpa. His name was Robert. Everyone called him Bob. My grandma called him Robert Leroy on special occasions. Mostly when he tracked mud in the house or when he tickled her.
I remember him working. He loved work. He would mow our lawn by lamplight after he had worked 18 hours. And then he would mow our neighbors lawn. Always.
He would plant the most delicious garden and then ask the neighbors if he could plant one in their yards too. He prepped and planted and harvested the gardens for them - leaving them big baskets full of produce - he just wanted to do the work.
I remember him coming home from a long day at work and sitting on a bench that he had welded, and watching my sister and I put on 'Broadway' performances in the backyard that he had grown, under spotlights that he had carefully hung for us. I can still hear the junebugs, feel the thick sticky air of the midwest and see my grandpa clapping as we pranced in Goodwill ballgowns and sang "Old Blue."
I remember him showing up two times when my heart was newly broken. Once after losing a baby and once after losing a marriage. He drove through the night together with my grandma. He would tinker with my car and change its oil while my body slept off the surgery or while my heart tried to beat again.
I remember him dying shortly after I met Shawn. He would really love Shawn.
And then I remember my grandma crying the day Shawn and I were married - saying Grandpa was there too.
