Reflecting and Writing

I rocked and sang all five of them to sleep when they were babies.  I held them when they cried.  I played with them and helped them learn to walk.  Four are my own children.  One is my brother, youngest of nine, soon to be married.  All of them have grown, are growing and changing.  Two of them are too far away.  Here they are last summer on the edge of Little Sahara Sand Dunes-- a place of jumping, flying, space, stars, and powerful memories. 

I'm working on four mini-essays, descriptive scenes for my class.  One scene is about the color blue and my experience diving from the side of a boat into the ocean off the coast of Acapulco.  One is about how my parents met, their first date seeing a Shakespeare play on Valentine's Day.  One is about my favorite season-- fall-- focusing on the Golden Harvest Festival with its bearded dulcimer player, apple cider, hot donuts, and free canoeing on Beaver Lake.  One is about desert spaces like the sand dunes at night-- wild, vast, open, and not at all empty.