It’s always interesting to me to meet couples who have been together for a few years and hear the stories about the early years. I like to know how they met, where they met, if the proposal was romantic, etc, etc. There’s something about love that always puts a smile on my face. And then there’s something about watching someone be so passionate about another (when it goes both ways), be so passionate about a craft and be so passionate about things in life that bring so much joy.
Ever wonder where “babies” come from? Are you curious what inspired your favorite song writer to jot down lyrics that climbed the charts? Have you ever wondered where the idea of “The Cosby Show”, “The Young & The Restless” or “The Amazing Race” came from. Where were the writers, the clothing designers, the painters and the architects when they first envisioned their “child”? Did they nurthure their ideas in a car, in front of a computer, in a college dorm room?
I pictured my “baby” in elementary school. I always enjoyed poetry and kept journals/diaries from a very early age. I can remember my mom finding a diary and reading it. I felt so violated that she would actually read MY diary. Not only did she read it, she confronted me about its contents. For a long time, I decided I didn’t want to write anything else on paper. I would keep my thoughts in my head. But the joy I received from writing wouldn’t allow me to just give it up. My passion and my desire couldn’t keep the words from falling onto the pages. Instead, I found a better hiding place for my diary and I kept on writing!!! I wrote on the front porch. I wrote in my tent (blankets draped over the bunk bed) with a flashlight to illuminate the pages. I wrote on the school bus. I wrote in class when I was supposed to be paying attention. I wrote on napkins at restaurants. I JUST WROTE.
Today, I still use some of those places. But today my “birthing room” is lit dimly by multi colored dragonfly lights that flicker in the background. It’s fragrant with the aroma of Morning Dew or Pink Sands. It’s mellow with the soothing sounds of smooth R&B or a majestic thunder storm. Birthing classes last 45-120 minutes. A white wine, moscato or sweet red is usually enjoyed during class. And like lots of expecting mothers, I’m taking notes along the way so I won’t forget my journey into “motherhood”.
I can’t wait to share this “baby” with my friends, family and the literary world.