Within my application into the creative writing track, I had to submit an essay for the non-fiction portion of my portfolio. I thought I might share an excerpt of this essay, one that I hope to kick-start writing down my own life story, and the theme that I hope to incorporate as I do so; that it’s not the big events that have shaped my life, but the small, almost transparent moments that at times generally go unrecognized.
This is not the entire essay in itself; those that know me pretty well may understand this, while those that don’t may be scratching their heads. I don’t want to share this piece in it’s entirety because I’d like to get it published someday, in a form where handfuls and handfuls of people can read it.
Here is a small section of what I’ve titled A Little Piece of Sunshine
I sat in the water, letting my forearms rest against the concrete and trying to ignore the stinging combination of sunburn and chemicals on my back. I sat up in an attempt to try and relieve myself of the pain, when I noticed that the sun was going down, transforming the sky into an array of pinks, oranges, and yellows. I shivered in awe, despite the fact that it was eighty degrees. I had witnessed a fair amount of sunsets back home, but there was something about this particular one that deeply imprinted itself into my poignant photographic memory.
I considered myself a spiritual woman, attending Church on Sundays and proclaiming that I had a relationship with God. Yet, this was one of the first moments where I truly sensed His presence; the palm trees danced in an easy sway, while laughter and conversation almost transformed into a kind of music. For the first time in months, I was genuinely happy; my family was all together in one place, where we weren’t fighting or worrying about money. Personally, I had paradise at my fingertips. It was one of my first experiences of truly living in the moment; of somehow capturing a piece of time and savoring it with all that I have.
That following morning, I sat down on the back patio and sipped my ice-cold Frappuccino, because it was difficult to drink hot coffee there, even at nine o’clock in the morning. I wrote in my journal, Dear God, thank you for these blessings; thank you for my family, and all the little things that I tend to take for granted. And thank you for being in my life.
Seven years have passed, many of which were filled with haze, tears, and confusion. In those years, I have managed to carry that experience with me, particularly in the way someone would carry a lucky trinket or a special piece of jewelry. I’ve learned to take note of the smallest of details, allowing me to recall what would be deemed unimportant by our fast-paced, media saturated culture. I collect memories the way some collect seashells; beautiful artifacts to be stored or displays in special places. But instead of a bag or a bucket, they’re stored in the deep crevices of my mind and heart. And instead of a jar or some kind of table or surface, they display themselves over and over again in my mind’s eye, or in the content of my writing.
I realize that the ending appears rather abrupt; because this is only a small portion, I didn’t know what exactly to put without having to include the entire ending.
As I said, this is the beginning of my writing down my life story, in a way that I don’t usually do on my blog. I want to write a series of essays concerning various aspects of my life, from relationships to dealing with Cerebral Palsy in various stages. I don’t know which essays I’ll choose to publish since they’ll most likely be very personal. For now, I’m praying that God will give me the courage to write what I feel the need to write, and direction on what should be shared.
God gave me this gift, and I want to make a difference. I just wonder what that impact will or what it does look like.