Sunlight beat down on the long stretch of sidewalk spanning the length of the Hammond's garage. It was the dead of summer and rays of sunshine made droplets of sweat form on little Helen's forehead as she fiercely created her latest masterpiece.
Helen was five years old. Her hair was a mess of curls plopped on the top of her head each day with a colorful scrunchy. She loved nothing more than to draw and color. Her imagination was just as wild as she was. The bright pink chalk was quickly dwindling as she colored in the final creature's dress. "Perfect," she whispered as she wiped the sweat off her forehead gazing at the three sidewalk chalk figures she made. "You three are going to be my best friends! We can go on adventures together!" The sound of the garage door broke her concentration. She looked up to find her mother standing by her side taking in the brightly colored creatures. "These are beautiful, Helen!" "Thanks, mom!" Pointing to the pink creature she explained, "This one is my favorite because it's pink. Pink is my favorite color." "I bet you've worked up quite the appetite making these drawings. Let's go eat some supper." Helen's mother offered her hand and Helen gladly took it as they walked inside. Pushing the garage door button on their way in, Helen took one last glance at her prized creations as the door slowly closed behind them. Evenings at the Hammond's house were always a scheduled affair: supper, homework, bath, books, bedtime. With a full belly and head of clean hair, Helen was off to read books and curl up under her covers for dreamland. But on her way to her room she noticed dark clouds begin to roll in from the west through the big bay window. From the very corner of the window she could faintly see her sidewalk creatures on the driveway. She smiled at them as she walked away. Jumping into bed with a book in hand, she commented to her mother, "It looks scary outside. I hope my drawings will be ok, mom." Reassuring her, "I'm sure they will be just fine, sweetheart. Let's read the story you've chosen." As her mother quietly read about fairies saving a magical kingdom far, far away, Helen's mind couldn't help but wander to seconds before she took her eyes off her chalk creatures before heading to bed. She was just certain that she saw one of them move. It couldn't be. No! But maybe they do come to life during the night time? It just doesn't make sense - The sound of the book being shut brought her back to the present time. Her mom hugged Helen whispering, "You get some sleep. You have school in the morning." "Ok, mom. I love you!" "Sweet dreams, dear. I love you, too." With that her mother quietly shut the door behind her leaving Helen to drift off to sleep with questions about her chalk creations filled her head. ... Minute by minute the street lights outside of Helen's house began flickering on. The sound of pesky little flies hastily bumping into the brightly lit lights could be heard for miles. The sound was not only annoying but gross. But this wasn't the only sound to be heard down Helen's street that very night. The small voices of three creatures could faintly be heard. With the sun out of sight and the other humans on Helen's street tucked into their beds, the sidewalk creatures came to life.
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For years now (embarrassing to admit) I have contemplated blogging about my everyday life as a wife, mother, teacher, friend, etc. Why has it taken me so long to do this? … (crickets)…
Is it because my life as a wife to a farm hand is unpredictable? Yes. Could it be that life with two very small, very sweet little girls is wildly busy and chaotic? Yep. Is it because being a teacher (and sometimes a mother) to students who all have questions that need answered, problems that need fixed, stories to be shared, advice to be given, etc is positively time consuming? You got it. But is my life really that interesting that I have stories to share? … (crickets)…That’s always where I stop myself. But something always tugs at me to get out of my shell and write for an audience, to document. I’ve always enjoyed writing but have rarely ever taken the time (see above reasons) to sit down and put pen to paper (or open a new post nowadays). A colleague of mine has catapulted me into this big, scary digital world of writing. He said, “Own It. Share it. Document it.” It’s something that I ask my students to do every week. If I really want to 'walk the talk', I need write weekly too. So here it goes…stay tuned! |
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