Monday, February 28, 2011

Pulling at a Memory

A few weeks ago, a co-worker and I started doing a staff seminar with our interns.
She and I chose to focus on storytelling and writing and talking about how to do these things well.
Part of that, we believe, has a lot to do with just meeting the blank page.
So, last week, we met with the blank page and a tiny prompt.
This is what happened on my page:


You were at the ice cream shop.
I was on the beach.
Crying.
Lamenting the uncertainty in my bones
when it came to you.
She was on the phone, listening to my doubts.
Calmly.
Kindly.

You were at the ice cream shop.
I was on the beach.
Tear tracks.
Swollen eyes against the wind.
She kept listening as I talked in circles.
About you.
And your
inconsistencies.

You were at the ice cream shop.
I was on the beach.
Wondering.
Hoping for an ending to this night
that didn’t end with tears.
She told me about believing
in me
and you.

You were at the ice cream shop.
I was on the beach.
Watching.
Your cocky walk down to the edge of the water,
the edge of what I wanted.
She listened to the excitement
building.
Honest.

You were on the beach.
In front of me.
Focused.
Seeing a moment you wanted to seal,
binding us to this patch of sand.
A smile in her voice, she
stayed.
Cheering.

You were on the beach,
walking ahead with him.
Sated.
Believing what you took
was yours to take.
She kept listening,
ready,
for the breaking.
___________________

Thanks for reading.
You all are very awesome. :)

Remember to take care of you.

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