In my travels as a blogger, I’ve had the pleasure of encountering some great women writers and have thought it would be fun to do a sort of Writer’s Circle (cooperative project ) with them. Recently, during a casual conversation I mentioned this to Jess and Christine and in no time flat, Theme Fridays was born. The idea is simple – pick a theme and each write a piece based around that theme. We hope to make it a regular feature and add other women writers to the circle as time goes on – in fact, any women writers out there who might be interested, please shoot me an email. We hope you enjoy this new adventure into literary fun. Visit Jess’s park bench and visit Christine’s park bench . Oh, and don’t forget to pick up some cotton candy, hot dogs and ice cream while you’re at the park. 😉
She sits upon me and waits. Looking up as they pass by and wondering who will stop. Will anyone stop? Does anyone see the lost in her eyes, the shine in her heart, the arms that reach out for the life that passes her by?
I whisper but she does not hear my consolations, commiserations, salutations. I tell her the stories that have come before, so she will know she is not alone in her yearnings – not a solitary soul but one of many.
“I’m not special,” she writes again and again in her journal. The ink soaks the page, deep and black.
“Yes, you are!” I hover over her shoulder, whispering loudly.
“No one will ever see me,” the pen assaults the tender pages and the tears smear the words.
“I see you,” I long to sprout arms that can embrace.
“What’s the use?” The journal and pen fly from her grasp and land at my feet. She stands up and the chill splinters me.
“Come back,” I call to her but she drifts away, into the crowd – a blur of black and white, folding into the other invisibles in the noon day sun.
He bends down and retrieves the journal and pen, then sits upon me. He reads her words and looks about. He takes the pen and writes, “I’m not special…”