#1

Author's Note: I changed my exigency from what it is in the post below to the proverb "It takes a village to raise a child" and how that is true in my life/childhood.

White paper stretched endlessly across the wood floor. The roll of paper went from one wall to the other in an expanse of pure white. I couldn't wait to get my hands on it. Crayon fisted in chubby fingers, scribbled red marks across the blank white. Before I could get much farther I was stopped.

Mrs.C, our babysitter while Mom was hurt, wanted to show us something. She had my sister, Sarah, lie down on the blank white paper. Arms and legs spread eagle on the floor and light hair haloed around her head. Watching closely I observed as Mrs. C took a crayon and traced Sarah onto the paper. Finally it was my turn and lay giggling as the crayon went between my toes and fingers. When I stood up there was me! Right on the paper!

Mrs. C showed us that we could color in any clothes we wanted. Hours flew by as the roll of paper slowly dwindled. By the time my stomach was grumbling for dinner our hands were tired out and the crayons had been worn to stubs. As Sarah and I finished up our final drawings Mrs. C appeared with baby Emily. Rounding up shoes and stray socks Sarah and I scampered to the car followed by Mrs. C and Emily.

A few windy streets later the car bumped up the driveway. As the car rolled to a stop we burst out the doors and into the house. Careful not to trip over the crushes I rushed to my mom. Eager to tell her how many people I made on the never ending paper.

Exigency

For my exigency I would like to write about how I make sense of my life and the world I live, which is through kindness and love. When something happens that hits me hard or someone does something that I can't quite wrap my head around I deal with it by being as kind and loving as I possibly can. Doing so keeps me from doing or saying something that could hurt someone when I didn't completely understand the situation. I hope as I write my "babies" my exigency will become much clearer. Just as a side note George Saunders commencement speech was really inspiring to me and helped me come up with my exigency. 

Making Sense

Author's Note: When asked how I deal with evil I would say that first I turn to faith. I find my solace in God and through that faith I am able to see the good inside the evil. I tried to recreate this progression by going from the time where I am looking to God to the time where God shows me the good that still exists.

The old friend

Waiting at the door

When the going gets tough

And the tough have nowhere to go

 

The spark of warmth

Ignited by the thought

That there is still hope

There is still life

 

The ever solid presence

The knowledge that someone

Is on my side

Someone is fighting for good

 

The unconventional done by the everyday

People who help because they can

Not for obligation but for

kindness

*I mimicked the repetition of it was in the first couple paragraphs "It was, until last week..... It was an old-fashioned word.....It was a word that....."

The Something that Defines the Someone

It’s the person with magic at their fingertips. The one that weaves the average into the enchanting, rendering the everyday unrecognizable. They are the ones who set a whole new world spinning into orbit with just the pitter patter* of computer keys or the scratch of a pencil against paper. It is the people who create things not for obligation, not for want of money but for pure passion and joy. It is the person who is just as lost in their own universe as the reader, constantly making their own tiny discoveries. The person who finds  a treasure and covets it until it is more than a single gold coin but rather something so big it cannot help but be shared. Writers, they are the people who create something out of nothing and everything out of something.

They’re the other side. The other half. They’re the soft pages and familiar creases. The late nights spent before big events. These are the analysts the critics, but also the lovers and loyalists. In their mind is where the magic happened. Where one left off they begin. Weaving their own tales alongside another’s. They are the lied to, but they don’t mind because sometimes fiction is so much better than what reality has to offer. These people are the ones that teach the bird how to fly, teach the cheetah to run. Without them there is nothing. They carve a nook for themselves within the universe of words and quietly stay until life comes calling. Readers, the people who give and sustain life far beyond that of the writer.

*I was trying to imitate the whole “wolf! Wolf!” thing but I’m not entirely sure how successful it was.