This writing was completed at the National Writing Project‘s writing marathon stop on August 11th. Each set of writing was 5-15 minutes long (varied) and in-between, we shared our writing with an ad-hoc group from across the country.

Part one: I am a writer

I got published in the Pioneer Press in the 2nd grade. I wrote a poem about snow. I needed something to rhyme, so I used stove as one of the end rhymes – snow falling on a stove, or something. I was thinking it was an electric range like the kind my mom had in her kitchen. I’d never seen or heard of a wood stove. I thought it was a pretty stupid poem, even when it got selected out of a bunch of elementary school writing to go in the newspaper. My family was excited and got ton of copies of the paper. I was kind of embarrassed because stoves didn’t go outside and it made literally no sense. I mean, the rest of the poem was fine; it was just a description about outside on a snowy day. But that line made it totally stupid – why would someone have a stove outside? Crazy.

I don’t remember what stove even rhymed with at this point. I’m sure my mom has copies of that newspaper still, somewhere in the closet. The poem probably makes a little more sense now that I know what a wood-stove is and that other types of stoves exist.

What I do remember is thinking that if adults were really impressed with this completely asinine poem and chose it over all the other submissions to this newspaper competition or whatever, then I guess I was going to be a writer because I could just write anything even if it was stupid and didn’t make sense.

Part two: Time

Time goes by literally too fast. It didn’t use to, but it does now. The chronos time where I sit around and play mind-numbing games on a device younger me never even imagined, or when it takes too long to take a shower in the morning because I have three different songs mashed up in my head and I’m trying to remember the artist for the one from the 80s or the jingle from the toy I wanted when I was little.

Then the fleeting moments of kairos – opportunities and moments to seize, a first step, a first concert, a first trip to the hospital or potentially the last one. Moments to put your foreheads together and say I love you and mean it. They go too fast.

Part three: Endings

I’m hungry. I’m almost always hungry during pandemic summer. We’re coming to the end and I have gained enough weight that I can’t fit school clothes, so I am watching what I eat, which is mostly carbohydrates and sugars. I don’t really want to change my eating because I like pasta and I like bread and I like cookies. But, I am eating watermelon and carrots and cherries and shrimp and salmon and potatoes and those are all good. But weight is easy to gain and harder to lose and I wouldn’t really care except I don’t want to get a new wardrobe.

Maybe I could just buy a bunch of scrubs that fit me for school if I have to go back. They look comfortable. I’ve never worn them but they look like they are just basic cotton in different colors. I don’t know how expensive they are. Probably super expensive like all work clothes.

The end of the summer is sad, even if this didn’t really feel like “summer.” Pandemic summer was more easy going, more close to home, more backyard barbecue and fewer camps and less driving around. Maybe that will stay with us, the less busy-ness of it all. I kind of hope so, even though I miss the concerts and camps and games and trips. It’s not so bad to take some time focus on home, health, and rest.