The Afternoon of Life

A recent homework session with Holden had me lying in bed late one night and replaying all that had happened.   It had NOT been a good session with Holden…at least it had not started out well.   First, he refused to sign his own name on the math paper assigned for homework.   He kept insisting he wanted to put "B29"…and when given a pencil, that is what he wrote.   I erased his mistake and reminded him who he was before asking a second time for him to write his name.   And again he wrote “B29”.   I knew immediately this was not going to go well.   Sometimes Holden gets in his head exactly what he believes should happen…and getting him to change his mind is like pulling teeth from a polar bear (or at least what I imagine that would be like).    Again and again and again he continued to try to sign in as “B29”…and then he began folding his fists together as a ninja pose.   I bowed my head and prayed, “Lord, I’m not sure how to help him do right now what I know You have equ

“Don’t ask me about being a writer.  If when you wake up in the morning you can think of nothing but writing, then you’re a writer!”   ~Rainer Maria Rilke I’m not sure how many years ago I first heard this quote shared by Whoopi Goldberg in Sister Act II, but I remember it made me cry.   I remember as a teenager wishing I could be a writer.   As a young mom, I wished I could express everything happening in my life so I could keep all my memories filed somewhere better than my brain – it seems I misfile too much stuff there and cannot pull it up when I want to enjoy it.   I remember when I started teaching school fifteen years ago I wanted to keep a journal – but teaching took too much time for me to make notes every day.   I battled cancer for so many days, weeks, months and even years – and yes, I did start a journal but was too afraid to write my fears in case they came true, and too afraid to dream of a future in case it didn’t come true.   And now, as a grandmothe