Scraps

from my writing class and my life

One of the class instructions I’m finding quite challenging is using handwriting to write my pieces of work. As you can see, the hand I write with is quite deformed from 50 years of Rheumatoid Arthritis.

I’ve gotten quite used to it over the years and, while it’s unsightly, I’ve figured out how to do most things with it, except handwriting.

At first I felt defeated and then the stubborn, “I can do it” me kicked in. So I plowed ahead, tried…and succeeded. It is such a gift to be able to connect my brain with my handwriting!

So, what follows are a few of my short pieces I’ve handwritten for my class with Jeannine Ouelette’s Writing in the Dark, 100-day Intensive.

This is from Chapter Two of the Intensive, written for the topic we were to write on, “Making From Scraps”:

I am this scrap, the remainder of who I was previously, the perfectly imperfect being. I’m remaking myself into a new woman, one who is letting go of the “must do’s”, the perfectionist, the must fit in or it’s dangerous. I’m free to be consciously myself as I evolve into a very old woman. I bring many years of acquired wisdom and am finally freeing myself of my fear of being too quirky, too much. As the stories of my struggles leave me, what remains is freedom. I welcome the evolving me, the me who is whole and needs no improvement, who needs only to be one with love.

This is also from Chapter Two of the Intensive, for the topic we were to write on, “Making from Scraps: the Found Thing”:

As I looked at my desk and the wire drawer stack that holds my iMac, I noticed a small rock, a rock that fits perfectly in the indentation of my left hand’s palm. I had written the word “MOJO” on the flat surface of the top with a black permanent marker. As I placed this in my left palm, I felt the solidness and coldness, read the word, MOJO, and immediately felt calm and grounded. This little, powerful rock had been laying there in plain sight for several years, unappreciated, quiet, waiting, and yet so powerful. What a joyous reunion!

This is also from Chapter Two of the Intensive, for the topic we were to write on, “Making from Memory: | Inherited”:

My maternal Grandmother, Anna Hyink, was a wonder of a woman. After her husband died, she remained in the small home they had shared with 6 children.

She was a remarkable, resilient, and strong woman who spent her remaining years helping her neighbors, and baking cookies which she personally delivered to them. She maintained a large vegetable garden, also sharing its’ largess. She also managed to put up her own storm windows and did so until her death.

Our large, extended family created a 95th birthday celebration that all of us were eager to attend. I was unable to be there, so my mother went.

The night of the party I was sleeping and was suddenly awakened at around 3 am. I opened my eyes to see bright, sparkling lights dancing in the upper left corner of the bedroom. They were mesmerizing.

I thought it was my imagination, but my then husband also saw them. I had the thought that it was someone who died that was visiting me, but shrugged it off as nonsense.

In the morning my mother called me the to say my grandmother had danced until midnight, and was found in her bed, having passed away in the night.

Then I knew she had come during the night to say goodbye to me.

Grandma Hyink is on the right, and I am the little one standing next to her, biting my lip. My Grandfather is behind me, and my mother is behind him and to the left, wearing a small brooch. Grandma Hyink died on her 95th Birthday, which was the same day as mine, October 2nd.

While they felt difficult to write at the time, I am so grateful I put aside my fears, and wrote them.

I hope you’ve enjoyed my “Scraps”.

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