Sunday, August 30, 2020

One of my kids has a passion (of mine!)


I have always loved to write. I can remember writing my first real "story" in Mrs. Harden's first grade class. I remember getting it back with red marks all over it but not feeling discouraged. I was excited that I was able to write such a long story. 

My second grade teacher, Mrs. Dunham, is still in touch with me today, and she says she can recall that I wrote really long stories in second grade too. I know I was also a really strong reader at this point in my life as well, but was more impressed with my speed than my comprehension. 

Somehow, my parents acquired an old manual typewriter when I was about 10-12. I can still remember exactly where that typewriter was situated in our trailer home's family room. I have memories of sitting down in the Florida heat, my legs sticking to the chair I was typing on, just plunking away on those heavy keys. 

At some point, my father got a work computer. Because he was a coach and an athletic director, we were often at school much later than the traditional 3pm dismissal time. So I would spend a ton of time writing stories on a black screen with green type while he coached basketball and volleyball in the gym or softball outside. 

As I grew older, I continued to write for fun. I even got into writing short skits for a drama class I was in during my senior year. I have tried, since then, to write dramas again, but have never been able to get back to that place of inspiration. 

Throughout junior and senior year of high school, I would fill up journals of stories. Type stories whenever I could. Typing was my hobby, and I got very proficient at it. But I wanted nothing more than to grow up and become a writer. 

So far, none of my children have really shown any "love" for things they would have inherited from their Mama. 

Take for example: 

Abigail: Ballet & birding & photography
Isaac: Piano & Hot wheels cars & Lego
Sidge: Wood-working & animals & Lego

Get the idea? None of these things are things I have ever loved or can really understand loving. I can't relate to any of them. Ballet a bit because I'm an athlete, but that's it.

But my fourth child. The wild child. Hannah. Hannah has started writing. She sits down and writes long stories and now she's been asking to type them. 

It is SO fun for me to "understand" one of my kiddos passions. I watch her, and I know why she's doing it. And it really resonates with me. 

Here's one of her recent stories. (P.S. I try not to correct grammar or spelling or sentence structure at all yet. I really want her to just have fun writing!)



 

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