The Whispering of Wishes

The wind is howling something fierce tonight. Pushing against the house causing it to creak and moan while I sit here warm to my toes inside. Earlier thoughts of a summer breeze and the memory of a lush green field that once grew outside my bedroom window, had me wondering whether or not the crickets would sound the same here as they did at home.

I always found them a comfort. The gentle serenade that often lulled me to sleep, interrupted at times by the throaty call of a bullfrog adding his voice to the tune. And sometimes when I couldn't sleep, I'd slip quietly outside and watch the stars with my back pressed up against the porch, listening as if there were something more I was meant to hear.

Thoughts like these remind me of Ms. Manchester, my creative writing teacher. Perhaps it is true of all those who dabble in the world of written art that we live between two worlds. The world that is, and the one we dream. During our last class, I can remember how she took out a piece of paper and as she stood in front of her desk with the olive green chalkboard empty at last behind her, she read what she believed her hopes and dreams for the future of each one of us would be. I have never forgotten what she said.

"Stacey will change our lives with words."

And from the moment it was said, I felt an odd prickling at the back of my neck. An odd fluttering in my heart. And I knew without a doubt that she believed the truth of her words, just as I believed from that very moment, my life found the course of its true direction.

My goal in life is simple ... To say something in a way that everyone can understand. To show us all that we are not alone in what we feel. And if I touch even one life with words that seem to come so easy to me, it will be enough. More than enough.