My daughter and I spent a quiet Friday afternoon together. While I worked at my desk in my office, I noticed my five year old writing in her notebook. She looked up at me, her brown eyes filled with caged exuberance, and said, “Momma, I wrote a story all by myself. I am a writer, just like you.”
The significance of this moment penetrates me in ways I am unable to articulate. Waves of happiness, love and pride hit me in my core. Her finger held up her notebook, insisting I look at her words. Her story was complete with a beginning, middle and end. Witnessing this for the first time, my heart felt unable to comprehend her milestone. Holding back tears, I commemorated her accomplishment by taking pictures of her manuscript and swallowing her with my kisses and hugs. I am always struck by the ordinary nature of such moments. How just another day can give birth to something that is speckled with awe.
Our moment, her writing and my reading, prompted me to consider all of the stories that linger inside of us. Which stories are we willing to confess? Are our dreams are stories? Do we hide from what we carry inside of us? How many of us are willing to memorialize what lingers inside of us? Although my daughter’s written words convey a simple story, there is a power that moves beyond the pencil, paper, capitol and lower case letters, and of course, the blotchy eraser marks.
For me, it is a reminder to relish in the joy of writing. Of telling. Of weaving stories.
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Do you remember the first time your little one wrote a story? Do you journal or memorialize your own stories in some way? What are examples of speckles of awe in your own ordinary days?
Welcome! I am a lawyer turned freelance writer, essayist, and editor. On staff at Literary Mama and the co-founder and co-editor of the literary journal, The Sunlight Press, my essays and reported work have appeared in The Washington Post, The Lily, Saveur, Civil Eats, Brain, Child, ESPN and elsewhere. I am currently at work on a memoir on grief and culture and how it provides perspective on life’s ordinary graces. I invite you to appreciate the ordinary with me. I hope my daily practice of seeing the magic in the mundane helps you celebrate and find more of these moments in your life too.
I love this! You’ve been a good influence on her creativity, for sure 🙂
BTW: Did you notice that your daughter has perfect story structure? Great hook, rising tension, and then a satisfying conclusion. I am applauding!
Thanks Windy. I know she loves “copying” me – if this paves the way to creativity, I am all for it.
She makes perfect story structure seem easy, doesn’t she?
How old is your daughter? I was looking at this from a reading teacher’s perspective. It is quite impressive!
My daughter turned five in January. Hope you are doing well. Thanks for reading. I appreciate your lovely comment.
“How just another day can give birth to something that is speckled with awe.” I love this sentence (and her story!)…….
Thanks Judy! Reizo will be there before you know it. It all moves so fast.
Rudri, I love this. Her desire is born because of you, beautiful moment for both of you.
Thanks Ayala! I hope that she is picking up on my love of reading and writing. I know she enjoys emulating me and wish for this trait to give birth to her own creativity.
This made me smile. Miss D. got the award this year for Best Writer. I was so proud! I was just about to gush on and on about it when Miss D. pouted at me and said, “I wanted to win Most Friendly.”
Ack! That child is from Mars.
Congrats to Miss D! Miss Best Writer – I can easily believe that. She has a great writer mom to look up to!
Smiling here, ear to ear. What a special moment! When my kids were little that had “writers workshops” at school, where they wrote, illustrated, and bound their books. I’ll never forget their smiles (and mine!) of accomplishment and pride.
Oh how neat Suzicate. Hope my daughter gets the opportunity to do the same thing.
This is exquisite. A beautiful moment captured and savored by you–and devoured by me.
Thanks Denise. Appreciate the kind words and the twitter love.
That is so awesome, Rudri. And honestly, does anything beat the handwriting of a budding author?
Thanks CK. I love the innocence of her lettering. Seems so fresh and without instruction.
Look how you are rubbing off on her in amazing ways! You’ve triggered a love of words in her, I’m sure of it! Bravo to her and to you.
Thanks Christine. I certainly hope it isn’t a phase and her love of words will develop and grow as she gets older.
Oh, this is lovely! You have to be so proud – and – the way she said “just like you.”
I don’t recall the first stories my boys wrote. I do remember my elder son (my extroverted engineer-physicist) who put me to shame taking apart and putting together a sprinkler system when he was three! (I couldn’t do it.)
As for my younger, he barely spoke, but he picked up a pen when he was five, and drew an airplane that would be remarkable for some adults. I still have it. And that young man has continued to astound with his artistry over the years.
These are extraordinary ordinary days. And you have so many more to look forward to!
Sometimes it gives me chills thinking about how these ordinary moments happen so unexpectedly and how they leave such an impression on me. I am certainly glad you kept that pic of the airplane.