#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Steam
What if. . . ? What if I skipped my walk today, simply because I was tired? (I was.) I'd be stiff, cranky, un-pollinated; and the dogs, they'd be moping too; we'd be cut off, from what? Energy. Vitality. Ferns, they know what it is to stand up straight, moistened at the root, greened with sunlight, oxygen. One wild geranium near a tree at a swamp is reaching toward the trail, truly, good morning, good morning, it's gleeful to be a wild geranium waking up in the world. The snappers, they like the quiet beneath the surface of the water; to swim in peace, kick, kick, glide. What if. . . Artemis had the thought, I want to introduce Kelly to Liz, I want these women to meet, but then he just didn't act; didn't bother! Why should he? Who cares? What difference does a good idea make? What if he had the intention without the effort to follow through? Except, he did. We met, Liz and I, and Artemis was right: liked each other, wanted friendship. More than that. Wanted to make something from nothing. Like play. What? Kick. Kick. She wanted the space over her garage, her studio, her window overlooking the pond to be used as a window of inspiration. For who? Well, me. I wanted to use it. Gather the women. Gather the women who want to come up the stairs with their notebooks and rickety pens and fears and write. What? Kick. Kick. Write what they know and haven't said. Write from their own photos. Write from their spirits and sight and sound and fury and smarts. Look, out the window. The pond, it's autumn at first, in gold and glow, it's winter, frost and ice, then spring, in purples and pinks and popping and green, summer soon enough. What if we hadn't? Followed through? Assembled on chairs and the couch. Said hello to each other. 2015. Autumn. We begin. What? Kick. Kick. Week by week by Wednesday, up the stairs. This windowed room, this heart place, a thinking place, blessing space. What if? What if I said, we need a chapbook of your writing. And said it, but did nothing. Did something, but not enough. It's one choice, not to bother. Be too busy, tired, uncertain about how to solve what needs to be done to make something that has yet to be made out of play. Kick. Kick. But, here it is. This thing we made. Because I went for my walk today anyway. Because Artemis said, I want Kelly and Liz to meet and be friends. Kick. Kick. Glide.
All photos and text ©Kelly DuMar 2018