I recently volunteered at a local non-profit where the average annual income of the families is at or below the poverty level. I feel right at home.
In fact, when I was a child, very few people seemed to notice the poor kids at church or school. We just all blended together in one way or another We were just ordinary kids with ordinary thigns. I just had less of what was ordinary.
I worked in the food serving line at school to earn the free lunch. It was easier than going without.
A local church paid for my rental of a school instrument so that I could play in the school band. I can’t recall why I picked out the accordion, but I think it was because there was a wonderful glass button that glittered like a diamond. Every time my finger glided over that button, I felt special.
I used the school library every week as there weren’t any public libraries near our home. My mother used to buy old Readers Digest books at .25 a piece, cutting out the blank pages to make a writing journal for me. I wrote poems. I diaried. I wrote stories and jotted down funny incidents to use in our local school newspaper. I wrote notes to my girl friends. I wrote and wrote and wrote.
I thought I was surely going to die an early death of low dignity, but today; I relish in the hard times because I came of out poverty to pearls and a few other glittering stones.
Money didn’t buy me out of the neighborhood, words did. I learned how to enunciate beautifully, spell impeccably and draw others into conversation through the magic of my words. Yes, I was and still am a girl Einstein of words. Words are my best friends.
I string words together more delicately than when my sister spelled out my name in an alphabet bracelet… all glittery with small blue and silver stones.
I am a new blogger, but I am not new to the magic of words. I have written and published two books. A third is in the wings and will be ready for publication soon. Soon doesn’t really seem to do the book justice. After all, the journey took almost five years. While I was good at writing the words, I needed to watch my story form so that I others could embrace my message. Writing the book was a journey of discovery.
Soon, I will share my book with you and of course, I hope you will be as drawn to the story as I am. But that’s enough for now. Let’s just focus on getting to know one another as writers, mothers, sisters, aunts, nieces, wives and friends. That will be amazing enough.
Gezil (Kristin) Andrews is new to blogging, but not new to writing. She first wrote a poem for her mother at age 12 and is still working hard to get the dangling participles, pronouns and adjectives in all the right places. Welcome.