I am different, yet we are the same.
Please, do not lump me in a category
because you lack awareness.
Please, see me as an individual
with ideas and thoughts of my own.
Please, do not build a wall
to keep me in or keep me out because of your fear.
Instead, keep the Gate open
and your arms outstretched.
Accept me, and together
we will build a better world.
photo credit
Gate- daily word prompt
Link (if can’t view)
I haven’t worked with photoshop in a long time. Starting over was NOT like riding a bicycle. But I did it, albeit in a slow, Carolyn fashion. As most of you know, I am currently writing my fourth novel set in 1963. As my dad used to say, it’s a booger-bear. So, writing children’s books gives me a breath of fresh air. (Yes, I go to sleep rhyming, then pull out my hair.)
Here’s a sample of my latest. It is a reminder for children to keep their imaginations open and active as they listen to a Grandma tell her granddaughter about a magical place.
My daughter introduced my granddaughter to life outside of a song or a book.
My wee one knows that a cow says “moo.” So …
Now, she’s met a cow.
He stays silent. He doesn’t moo.
What’s wrong with these grownups? Do they just make crap up so we can repeat what they say?
<shrug> If you lead a horse to water, you can’t make him thirsty. 🙂
… this tree could speak. Yes, this is ONE tree, not a cluster. I imagine it to be between 300 and 500 years old. If it could talk, it would tell me about my great-great grandparents who immigrated to America from Germany in the 1840’s. It would tell me how it watched as my grandfather, and later, my mother, took their first steps. It would fill this mind with my more of my family’s personal stories.
Years ago, I had the pleasure of meeting and training with Ann Wolfe, known as possibly the greatest female boxer of all times. She was tough, no-nonsense. Three of us had the chance to get inside the ring with her. Of course, she wasn’t going to punch us. It was all about our own offense. Needless to say, in that small ring, she was so fast, I couldn’t get even close to her.
After I was commissioned to paint her portrait, she told me that it reminded her of her mother — a wonderful compliment since she loved her deceased mother with total abandon. She told me she hung the original above her mantel.
Here is a great, short documentary on Ann Wolfe and her struggles to become a boxer. If rough language offends you, don’t watch. But if you like seeing how a woman survived the murder of her father, the death of a beloved mother and rose to the top, then watch.
A long time ago, when I wore these tiny boots, I didn’t know who or what I would grow up to be.
What I did visualize at a young age, was that, no matter what, I would be a mother.
But life doesn’t always listen to the script you write in your head. It teases you, tricks you, and leads you astray.
I fought hard for my babies. Basil thermometers, weekly blood tests, in vitro fertilization, the drug, Clomid, that gave me a cyst on an ovary. And on it went. Each time I left the doctor’s office, I cried.
At the age of 32, after a long, painful struggle, I received a phone call. “How does a boy sound?”
We picked up our son when he was five days old. My life was complete, joyous, perfect. My son taught me how to be a mother, and, for that I will be eternally grateful.
And then? Four years later, my infant daughter filled my arms.
Now? Both of my children have given me a grandchild. And, on May 18th, I will have my third. I feel like the luckiest mom in the world.
Capital Region in Copenhagen, Denmark
Carolyn Dennis-Willingham 