I'm blessed with a wonderfully supportive family--and friends--who have nurtured my writing. Here's an early example...
Afi
My mom's parents--my amma (grandma) and afi (grandpa)--lived on School road. I visited them before and after school and during lunch. Amma taught me crafts. Afi taught me how to play gin rummy. He was a grizzly bear, belting out Icelandic folk songs but... One day, I saw him shake. I thought it was odd and then I knew it was scary. Amma had to guide him into a chair. I stood there staring not knowing what to do or where to go--not wanting to see.
Afi noticed me.
"Leanne, Elsken (my dear), it's time to go home, " Amma told me.
I left but I couldn't stop worrying about them. Would Afi be okay? Would Amma?
Afi came home from the hospital--a shell of the man he'd once been. I think he knew he was passing away; I think he knew it would be soon.
Mom judged attending Afi's funeral too emotionally upsetting for me. I stayed home but Afi was with me. He remained with me. So when my language arts class was required to write a character sketch I wrote about him. Mom helped me with the spelling, grammar, and punctuation, but the words were mine.
Knowing Amma was lonely without Afi, we visited her as often as we could.
In Amma's living room, Mom sat in the turquoise chair with wooden arms. "Mom, Leanne has something she'd like to read to you. It's about Dad."
Amma joined me on the sofa.
I wanted to tell her that my essay wasn't very good, that I wished it was better. But I didn't. I just read...
"I am sure in your life you have met someone who really made a lasting impression on you. Possibly they offered you a new perspective on life and maybe even on yourself. This special person in my life was my afi.
"Afi once told me that if you were liked by both little children and dogs you had to be doing something right.
"Little children followed him everywhere like he was the pied piper. Dogs ran to greet him.
"His secret: he was always the straight goods. He never tried to hide any aspect of his character. Nor did he try to create a ribbon and bow effect. It would have been nearly impossible to camouflage any aspect of his strong personality, anyway. So, he didn't waste time trying.
"He was as stubborn as an old mule." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Amma grin. "And very opinionated. Yet he did not try to push his ideas on anyone. This was not what Afi hoped to do by stating his views. His goal, instead, was discussion. He had the love of debate of a lawyer."
Amma sniffled and pulled a tissue out of her sleeve.
"I'm sorry, Amma. I didn't mean to make you cry. I'll stop."
"Oh, no, Elsken." She smiled. "They're tears of joy. Please keep reading your story."
"Afi regarded each person no matter what age, gender, or race as having something special to share. Gregarious was his nature and debating his tool."
Silence.
"The end," I said so that Amma would know I was done.
"Oh, Elsken, that's wonderful. You are a wordsmith."
When I graduated from high school Amma gave me a pen and pencil set.
"So you'll continue to write, Elsken." She told me with a hug.
Next Sunday evening...
Bunny by Mona Awad
'Just me and them in a room with no visible escape route for two hours and twenty minutes. Every week for thirteen weeks.' Workshop is protagonist Samantha Heather Mackey's personal hell.
