Lighter Fare

I teach a writing class. I know that may strike some of youas ironic considering that I misspelled "daughter" in the very first thing you see when you visit my blog-THE TITLE!! But, as I tell my students, content is far more important than mechanics.

Now as I was saying, I teach this wonderful little writing class attended by incredibly eager young people destined, I'm sure, to win the Pulitzer Prize for Literature. All sarcasim aside, they are a sharp bunch of kids and they keep me on my toes or fingertips, as the case may be.

There first graded writing assignment was to describe a place. To prove to them, that I was fighting the word battle right alongside them, I wrote a little preview piece for them. I hoped it would inspire. But, I also wanted to connect with them. Expose a little so that they might see me for who I am, a real person who happens to adore words and wants to pass that love onto the next generation before the media swallows them whole.

So here it is...a little glimpse into the childhood of a little girl from Iowa who loved nothing more than to snuggle up to her hair bonnet-clad grandmother on a a frigid winter night.

Waking to the smoky aroma of frying bacon, I snuggle deeper in the crisp-clean sheets, blown dry by a brisk Iowa wind. Early morning light filters through the metal blinds casting horizontal shafts of light on the cold cream bottles and costume jewelry strewn haphazardly on the antique dresser across the room. I hear the nasally voice of the radio announcer as he begins to recite the day’s obituaries, a daily highlight in this small-town household.
Turning onto my back, I struggle to untangle the flannel nightgown that had tightened around my legs in the night. The kindly faces of Mary and Joseph whom I had recited my goodnight prayers to just a few hours before look down on me as if to say, “Wake up child, it’s a brand new day.” Reluctantly, I drag myself out of the safety of Grandma’s bed, wincing as my bare feet touch the icy linoleum floor. Drawn by the promise of crispy bacon and toast slathered in margarine, I stumble groggily into the kitchen.

Until next time...