Wow…500 posts!

Writing journal (Photo credit: avrdreamer)

I was sitting here this evening wondering what to write about, thinking about this, discarding that, when it hit me…I’ve published 500 posts on this little blog of mine!  The first few months I didn’t do a lot of writing, wasn’t really sure what to write about or who to write for.   Then I wrote a little more, then a little more.  When I began writing for myself, expressing myself, sharing myself, that’s when I began to feel comfortable with my writing.  Now I’m writing almost every day, often more than once a day.

Writing has become my way of coping with the stress in my life, with disappointments, with loss…but it is also how I choose to celebrate my life.  For me, writing is the dance I perform to the words in my mind.  Hopefully we all find our passion in life…something that puts a sparkle in our eye, a smile on our face, and a swagger in our step.  That’s what writing does for me.  It allows me to examine my life, to become the person I want to be.  But it also allows me to create an entirely different life, to try it on for size…and then to proceed or abandon it, whatever I choose.

So…for all of you who have been along for the ride since the beginning (yes, there are a few of you…I remember how excited I was to have ten followers of my blog!), thanks for supporting me, encouraging me, and sharing this journey!  And for those who have only recently joined the party, welcome!  I hope we’ll grow together and toast our successes.  Salud!

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The surrounding darkness

Graffiti Monster Eating Human (Photo credit: epSos.de)

The monster stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind him.  The boy struggled to his feet, desperately thinking about hiding.  But he knew he had no place to hide where the monster couldn’t find him.  He wrapped his arms around his stomach, trying to ease the pain caused by the vicious kick from the monster.  The boy began trembling.  He knew the pain was going to get worse.  He knew he would be punished for eating the crackers that didn’t belong to him.  He had tried so hard not to take the crackers, but the monsters had been gone from the house for three bedtimes.  He tried not to eat the food because he knew the monsters got mad at him when he ate anything without asking first.  But he was so hungry and didn’t know when they would come back.

Part of him had hoped  the monsters would stay away forever.  But he was just a little boy and he knew little boys have to have grown-ups around to do things for them.  Little boys don’t know everything yet.  He wished the monsters had taken him to the nice people before they left, but they locked him in the house instead.  He knew how to unlock the door, but remembered the punishment he got one time for going outside when the monsters were gone. He remembered he couldn’t walk for days after the punishment.  He didn’t know how many days because that was when he was littler, before he knew how to count.  He just knew he didn’t ever want to get punishment like that again.  So he stayed in the house no matter how hungry he got, no matter how cold he got.  He tried to be a good boy.

No matter how hard he tried, he was never a good boy.  He wanted to be good, but the monsters both told him he was a bad, dirty boy.  He knew bad boys got punishment, the monsters told him that almost every day.  If he could be good, then he wouldn’t have to get the punishment. The nice people always told him he was a good boy, but he didn’t know why he couldn’t be good when he was home with the monsters.

Suddenly the door slammed against the wall.  The monster filled the doorway, swinging the big belt back and forth.  He stepped into the room and the other monster walked in behind him.  The daddy monster pointed at him and said to the mommy monster, “Get the brat on the bed and hold him.  It’s time for his punishment.”