A figurine, Delft blue. I remember that trip to Holland and laugh. As soon as our bus pulled into Delft, we piled out and made a beeline for the gift shop, searching for the souvenirs that would eternalize this journey. I turn the figurine over in my hand: a lady holding a basket, gazing out. What does she see? What memories is she holding on to? I dust the gracious lady and seat her back in the curio. As I reach for the next pieces and reminisce, I wonder what it is that makes me want to own a piece of everyplace I’ve been? To keep forever alive a moment, an experience, an emotion?
It’s the same with movies I’ve seen and loved. Gotta buy the VHS, then upgrade to the DVD in case the VHS goes bad. And even though I have both, I still watch the television film version when it airs and don’t mind enduring the intrusive commercials.
Then there are my books. Some with places of honor on shelves, the power of sentiment attached to each one. And designated piles: ‘To Read.’ ‘To Read Again.’ A wish list of books, ‘To Buy.’
When the news announced the banning of Harper Lee’s, To Kill A Mockingbird, I rushed to confirm I had a copy, which led to a thorough examination of which books might be brittle, yellowed and frayed. A new list formed: ‘Books to Replace.’
All of which leads me to conclude that maybe all of these actions explain my desire, my need, to write. A significant event, an emotion, an intense experience, compels me to want to immortalize it. I grit my 36 teeth and magically weave the 26 letters of the alphabet into some meaningful representation of the emotions exploding in my heart. A yearning to create stories that will last forever, that will be cherished by others and replaced over and over again because they’ve connected with a piece of my world and they too want to own it forever.
Veronica Jorge
See you next time on March 22nd!
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The last of the leaves have fallen from the trees and covered the ground in colors of orange, yellow, red and green.
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I didn’t lose my voice. I just can’t find the heart of my story or the right words to express it.
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When you love someone, you want to know everything about them. That someone, in this case, was my maternal grandmother. We shared a close bond, but there was a wrinkle on the face-map of her life that I could not trace. I wish I had asked her my questions while she was still with me.
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The Many Colors of Us: Remembering 9/11
by Veronica JorgeMost people are a combination of various cultures, though I think their ancestors tended to confine their marriages to one continent.
Mine didn’t.
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A story of second-chances, hope, friendship, gratitude, and yes, the redeeming power of love, A Slight Change of Plans, satisfies at many levels. As the title suggests, things may not always work out the way we plan or expect. Colby encourages us to believe that there is a good plan for our lives, and a Master Planner who knows how to put all of the pieces together in the right place if we would only trust Him and let Him.
Nothing Found
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