I feel like someone just turned a light on in my head and now I can finally see.   At first I thought writing a blog was like taking dance lessons.  I practice, when I become good enough and something profound occurred, then I perform by writing in my blog.  

Then I realized that blogging is like looking into a two-sided mirror with others watching me.  Wow, do I know how the kids at dance feel now, knowing the parents are watching, yet not being able to see any of the expressions on their faces.  Having been one of those parents, I can say that most parents love to watch their children, they encourage them and really want them to succeed.  I think that those on the other side of my two-sided mirror are like parents at a dance class and are cheering me on in this crazy adventure.  

There are those children that take dance because they long for the big show, their time to shine, while others are in it because they feel the music, love the way it resonates through their body, but do not like to really show it off.   Thus far, I am this kind of writer.  I love the craft, have a passion for organizing my thoughts into lovely and poetic form, but do not always feel the need to share.  I realize that true growth in this area requires me to at least perform a bit and see if others would be interested in coming back for more.   

Images of people crowd my mind and special voices talk to me. They tell me that everything will be okay, that I am taken care of. Strange faces and voices try to get to know me, distracting me from my loving thoughts. I do not like the interruptions. Shadows fall as day becomes night. Where did the day go?  I ask myself.

I look around. The place is familiar, yet makes me distraught. I wish my voices were back, I need comfort. “Shirley, I am here to help you get ready for bed.” A girl that is vaguely familiar is standing over me. I look down at myself, barely able to move my head. I look back up at her, she sees that I heard her, but have no way to let her know.

She begins to prepare me for bed in a strangely familiar way. She is blessed with gracefulness. I am thankful she is kind in her movements. I recall that some here are not so kind. Flashes of a red-headed girl devoid of emotions enter my mind. I want my memories back. I want to get lost in them.

 “Are you okay tonight?” The girl is staring at me. She sees something different in my eyes, maybe she sees some sadness, although I do not think I show much expression on my face. She gently washes my face, then calls for a helper. Together, they use a machine to lift me into bed. My body does not move on my command, I am mostly limp, though I can feel everything. I appreciate their gentleness. I hear the voices of my children, telling me goodnight. I kiss them goodnight and wish them sweet dreams filled with rainbows and happiness. I see my husband as he smiles at me before we turn out our lights and he tells me he loves me.

A girl is putting lotion on my legs and feet. She is gently talking to me, telling me that my skin is dry, but the lotion will help. She begins to sing to me. She is singing that Jesus loves me. I taught my children to sing that song. I wonder where my children are now. I wonder why I am not with them. I really want to be with my family. I long for the hugs and kisses and the comforts they give me.

Somehow I know that it is not possible, though I cannot understand why. The kind girl props me ever so slightly on to my side. She tells me that this is to relieve pressure. She will come back later and turn me the other way. She tenderly comforts me. She then leans over, kisses my forehead and tells me to have sweet dreams. She turns on the bathroom light for my comfort, cracks the door and quietly sneaks out of the room. I am left with my memories and I feel myself drifting off. I hope I will have sweet dreams filled with rainbows and happiness.

 ***This is told from the point of view of an older person living in a nursing home. In my twenties I took care of people who had their eyes open to the world, but were no longer able to move much or communicate. Some of these people lived for a very long time in this condition. I like to think that these people were able to pass their time with their memories. Sometimes I have wondered if these people live in another world all of their own.

I am learning to navigate through the world of blogging and think there is no better way than to do it hands on.   This is my first blog EVER, and I have my fears about privacy, overexposure, and being publicly incompetent :).

My primary writing focus is on middle grade fiction, though I enjoy writing and reading almost any kind of fiction.  I am in the process of exploring publishers for a completed middle grade fantasy novel,  writing short stories, and working on another book. 

My goal for this blog is to have several categories;  Middle grade fiction, Random thoughts, Poems and My life is Good.  I also plan to publish some private pictures and updates into my life for those family and friends to be kept abreast. 

Thank you for stopping by and come again 🙂