#sol15 A Writing Life
It came in an email. A reminder. A nudge. A Slice of Life every day for thirty-one days.
It’s March 2nd, but I’m writing for March 1st because I’m accepting the challenge.
I love to write, but I’m an academic writer for my middle school language arts classroom. And we participate each year in #NaNoWriMo, so really, a slice each day? Why not?
For one thing, I’m a story creator, not a story-teller. I forget what happened as soon as I’ve moved on to the next moment. That’s a gift in that drama is so not part of my life. But, I miss retelling the small moments and past stories that my grandchildren just might want to hear. But I love the spontaneous creating of stories that evolve moment by moment in my science fantasy novels each November.
That means I need to write those slices to bring moments alive. Perhaps a story about the lost child on his big wheel, or camping at — hmmm, forgot the name of that spot — or a stubbed toe. Ouch. Do kids even run barefoot on the sidewalk anymore?
Once upon a time in a cold February in 1950, a child was born. She grew up with mud pies, neighborhood skits, catching toads, and a little brother who told stories every night.
“Sheri,” mom called out the door on a hot August afternoon. “Where is your little brother? Go find him.”
I frowned. At age seven, I didn’t appreciate losing the sight of my brother — I’d get in trouble.
We lived in an older neighborhood, not far from Main Street, but our street was quiet. Across the street were the McGarvey’s, all thirteen of them. Was Bill there?
“Beeeee—-allll,” I yelled. Again and again with no answer. I walked down the sidewalk, looking into the parked cars. Bill loved to pretend to drive, and anyone who left a door unlocked risked a visit from him. At four years old, he could climb anything and get into anything. It was not easy keeping track of him.
And then I heard it, that voice: “Rrrrrrrrr. Rrrrrrrrrrr,” an attempt at a car engine.
I stopped to listen and tilted my head, glancing at the driver’s seat in each parked car. There he was, in the green car.
I ran to the car and stopped, looking up and down the street. Who’s car was it? Were they around? I hesitated, knowing it wasn’t mine to touch, but there was Bill, pretending to zoom down the highway, twisting the steering wheel back and forth.
I grabbed the door handle and pulled the door open. I hopped up onto the sideboard, and ducked my head into the car.
“Bill! Get out of the car. Mom wants you.”
He laughed and continued driving.
I reached in and pulled his arm. “Come on, Bill. This isn’t your car. We’ll get in trouble.”
He laughed. And I screamed. The car door had closed on my toe. I pulled Bill out of the car, crying. My little toe was bleeding and I was sobbing.
I closed the car door and took Bill’s hand; he looked scared. I limped back to the house with Bill.
What happened next, I don’t remember, but it was always this way: Sheri, get your little brother.
“’34 Chrysler Airflow Imperial CX-7 (MIAS ’10)” by Bull-Doser – Own work.. Licensed under Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons.
Sheri Edwards View All
Geeky Gramma ~~
Retired Middle School Language Arts/Media Teacher ~~
Writer and Thinker~~
Art from the Heart
I didn’t have a brother so I am glad to know what a pain they are! Ha… I think the story teller in you is being released!
Yes, they are a pain — and a promise. They are always there when you need them.
I have a little brother, so I feel your pain! Being an older sister is hard work! Thanks for sharing your story!
Thanks for stopping by.
Just one brother? Try three, life was not fair in my world. Glad you are joining and capturing those moments that may be lost if not written by someone who has lived it.
Three of Bill would made me a different person just trying to survive his adventures!
Not planned as such, but you could embed these as detail-nuggets in November’s NaNo. A science fantasy that plays with time and memory comes to mind
Good idea! And they are ready for review here! Thanks.
don’t forget tagging to help you find them come November
Another good tip! Thanks Vanessa — it’s obvious you’re a seasoned writer!
I have Vance Stevens and his Electronic Village Online (EVO) workshops (Jeff LeBow called them “ur-moocs”) to thank for that. He really emphasized tagging as crucial to “navigating chaos.”
Then going back to tag bookmarks and posts that I hadn’t bothered to tag really reinforced the lesson.
I’m glad the e-mail was enticing. Welcome to our writing community!
I like the part were Sheri and bill are fighting in the green car and the last sentence ” What happened next, I don’t remember, but it was always this way: Sheri, get your little brother.”
Thanks, Edacoe. It was always that way! I’m glad you liked the story.
I only had sisters, but I was the oldest, always looking out for the younger two, and sitting in the middle seat in the car. What a beautiful green car!
Looking out for the little ones made us stronger, I think. Thanks for reading.