When I birthed my children I also birthed a writer.
With each pregnancy and birth more and more words seem to have filled my mind and soul. They spill from me all day long.
Often they are lost into the ether of the air around me. Words shouted as tasks, get on your shoes! Where’s your home work! Go! Do! Be!
They swirl around in my brain constantly. Rhythmically narrating the story of my life throughout my day.
Words of all kinds bouncing around my body, some lucky enough to find their way to my hands and out to the keys or a pen. Clear and readable. Other stay blurred in the fog of my mind, sometimes only partially coming into focus.
Words like fairies that seem both magical and silly. Part fantasy part reality as sometimes I am sure I can see their elusive sparkle just out of sight. More often then not it’s more like fairy dust, I reach and grab and they disappear just out of the grasp of my tired mind and weary hands.
I dream in stories.
Words written and told. Sitting at a desk looking over a lake basking in the morning sun coffee steaming.
For now I grasp the fairy words as the fly by, sometimes I get their essence right. Sometimes I get just a little bit of dust that will one day bloom into something magical.