May 17, 2012

The Caterpillar and The Six Year Old. Hankies ready?

It’s not very easy explaining Heaven and death to a six-year-old.  We’ve been blessed not to have the need for this conversation for some time.  So, you can imagine my surprise yesterday morning when my six-year-old mini-me decided the ride to school would be the perfect time and place.  He wanted to confirm his Grandpa Doc and Grandpa Pete were in Heaven.  Both men solidly believed in the Lord. 

“Yes, baby.”  I eyed his reaction in the rear view mirror.  His brows furrowed up with thought for a moment just before his eyes found mine in the mirror.

“Are they like butterflies?”

“How do you mean?”

“In my class we are studying butterflies.”

“Yes, you showed me their cocoons-“

“Chrysalises, mom.  They’re called chrysalises.”  He quickly corrected me.  “And yesterday three butterflies emerged.” 

“I remember!”  The proud smile pulled at my heart because yes, this is exactly how my six-year-old talks.  He loves big words and now big concepts. 

“So, mom, are our bodies like a chrysalis? “

“How do you mean.”  I searched for the nearest shoulder in the road.  Things were about to get heavy.  Six-year-old mini-me wears every emotion he has on his sleeve and in his big look-at-the-wonder-of-the-world eyes.  If he wanted to talk death, then there was no way to steer him around it because he’d been contemplating this conversation for weeks.  And I couldn’t find a place to pull over.

“I think that we are like the caterpillars.  And we live our lives and then, when we die, we go into a chrysalis.”

“I never-“

“Actually, mom. I’m not done.”  His dimpled smile made the cut much easier.  “You know how the butterfly emerges?”

I nod and get another dimpled grin.

“I think that’s how it is.”

“How what is?”

“When we become angels.  We leave the chrysalis and the people who are still caterpillars bury our body, but who we are is now  free ... flying like a butterfly.  Like an angel.”

I still can’t find a place to pull over and, now, I really need to because I can’t see the road through the tears in my eyes.  How precious. How simple.  How utterly right he is.  It doesn’t make death any easier, but to a six year old, and now his mom… we won’t ever look at a butterfly the same way.

He quickly moved on to the newest Lego Ninjago figure he’d like to “acquire” for his collection, he is still only six and I’ll be cherishing his pure thoughts for as long he shares them with me.

May 16, 2012

Wordsmith Wednesday #4

The objective:

Show us a scene from your current project. It can be creepy, adventurous, romantic, etc. Just a snippet to let readers see what they're in for!

The guidelines:

* Must be from a current work-in-progress (WIP). Nothing already published.
* You may choose from any section of the manuscript, but be mindful not to include spoilers.
* Keep it clean and YA audience friendly, please. No erotica.
* Stay under 300 words or about one page. It can be as little as a few lines if you prefer. We just want to give readers a chance to see everyone's selection.
* Link back to Chirenjenzie so we can enjoy others' work as well!
* Include the guidelines in your post.

I've been polishing up the past few weeks and this is one of those moments that I've been working on to get that roller-coaster wheeeee feeling in your stomach.
I hope you all enjoy this snippet
“I think he’s rethinking that error in judgment.”       
            “No,” I looked over my shoulder and found Crystal stomping her foot while Justin stared at Alec and me.  “He just wants what he can’t have anymore.” 
          “Profound.”
         “Practical.”  I looked back into Alec’s eyes.
         “So you’re a practical girl?”  There was a long pause and I knew that wasn’t the question he wanted me to answer.   Alec leaned forward, his lips a breath of space from ear.  “And what do you want, Cassandra?”
         My heart stuttered again as the double meaning hung in the air, pulsed with bass of the music…and my faltering heart.  Alec pulled back, his crystal blue eyes searched for an answer that I didn’t want to give, because, really, what I wanted at this moment in time was…
         Him.

May 7, 2012

Birds, Worms, The Vidalia Chopper and Me.

Burning the midnight oil and grabbing that early worm are really kicking my butt! The purplish smudges under my eyes are my only reward, right now. 

Flat tush, round belly, jiggly arms, laundry piles, dust bunnies.  Just a small list of my “accomplishments,” right now. 

Imaginary friends, crazy worlds, reality and fantasy living harmoniously. Rough edges, smoothing; holes, filling; lines, tightening. It’s all coming together.

Eminem, Natasha Bedingfield, and, yes, sometimes Neil Diamond. 

The Vidalia Chopper, make-ahead meals, Post-It notes, correction tape, and my iPhone.
“Saucing the taco.” Eldest of five,  only girl, crazy head shakes and lots of these !!!!!!!!!

Friends with great news, Friends with amazing sales, Friends who understand this *head ca-thunk*
Friends with grown-up girl’s gone crazy alcohol nights (that just means two drinks), friends with O-type blood, friends who make pictures and paper fun.

Warm looks, 123’s, proud of my wife comments, “Best. Book. Ever … I want to play this part.”
Sleepy babies, the snuggle shuffle at two in the morning, I love you, mommy-ies that are only out shined by the occasional, “I’m proud of you, mommy”. 

My favorite things.
And one day, I hope they’re as proud of me as I am of them.
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