My husband and I are visiting his parents for Easter. I explained this blog project to my mother-in-law this morning. She asked if I wanted to use her laptop to write. “No, thanks.” My husband chimes in, “She prefers to write it down on paper. It’s what she does.” He is exactly right. I have my bright blue pen and light blue Southeastern Writing Center Association notepad and I’m ready for day 7.
I crave the act of writing, the pen smoothly inside my hand. It’s easier to maneuver than chopsticks and more natural. I hold the pen close to the tip where it’s safe. I write quickly then extend my thumb straight when I pause, pointing the pen away from me and parallel to the page.
I’ve enjoyed writing since the first week I learned letters in kindergarten. I filled up wide-lined paper with ls, and vs. Later, I relentlessly manipulated the each l into a t and each v into y. My first diary was purple with small, pink and white daisies along the boarder. The words My Diary were centered, fancy, gold, princess-like. It had a miniature lock; I hid he key in the back of a framed picture. On any given day, between 5-10 notepads are in my purse and often more pens than that. Each pen and notepad is ready to remember a conversation or idea for me.
One of my best friends picked me up for lunch yesterday. After pizza, she puts her son in his car seat. I turn around from the passenger seat to see him grabbing for something. It’s a toy so I hand it to him. With my both on either side on the white plastic rectangles, he opens it from the center, sitting the backside up. It’s a kid’s laptop and his mom asks if he’s going to do work on his laptop.
I decide my children will use pencils, pens and paper—items that will never be extinct to me. And if my someday, my children embarrassingly admit that I still use pens, will it be the same as when I joke about someone today who doesn’t text?
I completely agree. I have to write - pen and paper. That is when I feel powerful!
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