Writing Sample Saturday: And Her Bird Can Sing

Blue Jays were my grandfather's favorite bird. And where we lived, we didn't get to see them very often. But when we did, we'd sit together...in silence...and enjoy its presence.

We all need that in our lives. Moments where no matter how awful the world may seem, or the crappy things we are forced to deal with, we are brought back to what life really is.

There will always be mean, angry people. There will always be violence. There will always be events that happen that are so horrific we can't fathom them. But you know what? There will always be peace too.

And love.

And ways to absorb these things into our lives.

These are the things that make us who we truly are. It's okay to get mad or 'lose it' once in awhile. No one on this planet is perfect, no matter what they think. It's not a reality, and trying to attain perfection is what causes the other negative things I mentioned. So don't try.

Today's post is a snippet from a Work-in-Progress about a young girl dealing with bullying. It's a subject close to my heart not only because my daughter, Jordy, goes through it but because I also went through it. Any experience we have here that can help others, I am more than open to create a story in order to reach out.

Have a great day, enjoy the sample and...go find a Blue Jay.

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June 28, 1980

Summer vacation. Finally!

Ten-year-old Chelsey Freedman tip-toed across the cool grass, still soaking with morning dew. Her bare feet flick tiny droplets of cool water onto the tops of her bare feet, but she didn’t care.  For the first time in almost a year she felt free…alive!

She stopped halfway between the fence surrounding the back yard of her townhouse and the community park a few yards away. She closed her eyes, breathing in the nippy early morning air, and raised her arms. She spun and spun, her pastel flower-patterned tank top sundress flowing out like one of those gorgeous gowns she’d seen ballerinas wear. She spun until the ground moved on its own causing her to crumple into the wet grass in a heap of giggles.

Chelsey lay there for a minute, staring up at the deep blue sky. The cottony clouds scattered here and there. Her dress was getting wet. So was her hair. And she just…didn’t…care. She made a grass dew angel, then scrambled up, running to the park.

The swing.

She needed to swing.

No one else was there so early in the morning so she got first pick. The middle one…yeah!! She backed into the swing, wet with dew, walked backwards until she was in the very tips of her tippy-toes, then jumped up into the seat.

Whoosh!

She pushed her legs up to the sky, leaning as far back as she could. Her waist-length strawberry blonde hair brushed against the ground beneath her as she pulled herself forward. Then she thrusted herself forward, tucking her legs tightly against the bottom of the swing, yanking back on the thick, cool chains. She repeated the motion several times until she got a strong rhythm going and she was swinging higher and higher.

Nothing mattered anymore.

The school year was over.

Swinging forward, her dress flowed up past her thighs. Going back forward, her thick hair covered her face. Her feet glistened, tiny blades of grass sticking to her toes and to the bottoms of her feet, but she didn’t care. She leaned as far back as she could on the upswing, closing her eyes as she enjoyed the tickling feeling in the pit of her stomach.

No more pencils, no more books, no more teachers’ dirty looks…

Only it wasn’t the teachers’ looks Chelsey was relieved to be away from. As she pumped her legs, keeping the swing going, she tried being happy that Grade Four was finally over.

“Don’t look back,” her grandmother had always said. “There’s more to look forward to than what’s done behind us.”

Chelsey knew Grandma was right. But sometimes things that happened can make things about to happen a lot scarier. What if the same things happened in Grade Five? What if she sees some of those kids over the summer? What if she runs into Jill?

The tickles in her stomach turned into pain twinges. She tried making the pain disappear by pushing her legs as high and as hard as she could.  She spread her toes over the one cloud in the sky making it look as though she’d stepped in a hug blob of whipped cream.

Boy, if I go any higher, I’ll flip right over the bar!

The swing flew back down and she tucked her legs under her bum. Her body felt free, like she was going to fly. She closed her eyes, feeling her body being pulled back up. The swing bar squeaking with each move forward and back.

            She’d be safe now. Things had to get better, right?

            Her thoughts drifted back while she pumped.

Whoosh…whoosh…whoosh…