Home. My mind immediately sees houses flying through memory. I’m Dorothy swirling in a tornado, far away from home. Home of my childhood memory in the late sixties – mud-pies and butt- puddle splashing in a bathing-suit during a thunderstorm. I am so sure parents worried less then. Or maybe young parents just don’t think of the worst thing that could happen as older parents do. Memories of a one room school house, fenced in, bell ringing at the top. Sometimes I long to go back in time. If not for my own escape, for my sweet girl’s sake. I know I wasn’t afraid to go to that school. I only feared that I would get caught in my own sneaky scheme. Stealing my artwork when the teacher wanted to hang them all and instead I loved my creation so much I wanted to take it home with me. So I stuffed it under my jacket and held it close, because it hurt to think of that colorful paper fish, hanging by a string swimming in the schoolhouse darkness when it could be with me. That was the first time I created something I loved and I longed for it to come home with me. The guilt consumed me as I lay in bed at night. But I never did bring it back.
*Initially I thought this prompt was leading me to write about the many places I lived and instead I found myself standing in that one room school house committing my crime. There was only one house between my home and the school.
Every Friday I join in here to write for 5 minutes on a prompt chosen for us. Every week I am surprised to find that I have words…and sometimes I am surprised where they lead. Come join in this fun but sometimes unexpected journey- see where it leads YOU!
Dawn Paoletta is a life enthusiast who loves to juggle words, chug coffee, and journal excessively. You can find her gathering stones on the beach most mornings. She enjoys hanging out with her hubby, daughter and family pets in Narragansett, RI and shares her passion, poetry and prose @Enthusiastically, Dawn.
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