Where seeds of thought have room to grow
Category: Personal Histories
-
Scintilla Project Day 14: We exert control over ourselves and others in many ways. Talk about a time when you lost that control. This can go beyond the obvious emotional control into things like willpower, tidiness, self-discipline, physical prowess – any time that you felt your autonomy slipping away. I sat on the hood…
-
The Scintilla Project Day 9: Talk about where you were going the day you got lost. Were you alone? Did you ever get to where you meant to go? Huge cathedrals and museums, ancient statues, priceless art and architecture…it was all beginning to blur by the time we entered Piazza San Marco in Venice…
-
I'm playing catch up. I knew when I signed up for the Scintilla Project, a two-week writing commitment, that it would be a challenge to write something every day. I accept that there are going to be some days I just won't have time to write, especially since I usually have to roll a…
-
I'm combining both of today's Scintilla prompts into one: "What’s the biggest lie you’ve ever told? Why? Would you tell the truth now, if you could?" "Tell the story about something interesting (anything!) that happened to you, but tell it in the form of an instruction manual (Step 1, Step 2, Step 3….)" 1.…
-
His eyes were blue. Such an intense blue they gave me the creeps. Maybe that's what it was, the intensity rather than the color. Paired with a scraggly beard, the whole package reminded me too much of Charles Manson. "Yeah, we should all get together one weekend…you, your boyfriend, me, my girlfriend." We were making…
-
Pop passed away early Thursday afternoon. Those words are so hard to type; I couldn't do it here before today. Thank you for all of the prayers and light sent his way, and ours. We believe his passing, and the way he passed, was an answer to prayers, probably even his own… so peaceful, his…
-
My baby turned 21 last week. After reminiscing about her birth, sighing over her baby photos and marveling at how fast the years have flown by, I continued spinning backwards through photo albums to my own 21. Photos pried loose memories buried under the rubble of thirty-two more years. So much I had forgotten… …
Long Hollow 