misty, watercolour memories

Seeing as though I spend the majority of my workday playing Scrabble with a co-worker, reading my everyday blogs, and slacking off any way I can, it's no surprise that somewhere in my online travels, I stumbled across a site full of creative writing prompts.

Creative writing isn't my strong suit and I've always preferred to write about something someone tells me to write about. In college, I majored in English for two reasons: a. I wanted to read all the good stuff and b. I wanted professors to tell me, "write a paper about this" so I could "write a paper about that." I like direction. Order. Structure. I weigh the pros and cons of things. I analyze things until there's nothing left to analyze. Those traits don't lend themselves very well to just sitting down and writing about whatever pops into my head (or doesn't, which is often the case). Once I've been given something to start with, I can go to town. But when I'm tasked with coming up with that starting point, I'm often at a complete friggin' loss.

So, I've saved all 300-and-something of those creative writing prompts and am going to give some of them a shot whenever the mood strikes me. They're not all technically in the creative category but they are, at least, prompts. And really, the entire point is just to write. What better time than now, eh?

Write about a memory related to a holiday.

With my amazingly awesome family, I have tons of holiday memories; most of them just as awesome as the family that contributes to making them. Until recently, my favourite holiday memory was of a dress. My uncle has never been one to articulate his feelings with words or hugs but with material possessions. That's not to say he's not one of the most caring and generous men I know who loves his family dearly but I think it's just always been easier for me to show his affection in that way. One Christmas when I was maybe six or so, he gave me a dress. It was cream-coloured with a burgundy velvet sash around the waist and it was the most awesome dress I have ever owned. I don't remember a single thing about that Christmas other than that dress and I have no idea what year it was or if I really was six years old or not. But I remember standing in front of our fireplace and holding the dress up to show everyone. My mother has somewhere in her house a photo of me in the dress, which reminds me that I really need to ask her to find that.

But this past Christmas saw the bumping of that memory from my 'favourite' spot.

That same uncle isn't currently in the best of health. When I was a senior in high school, he had a liver transplant and this year, found out he needs another one but is no longer a candidate because of some lung issues he has. He's currently on oxygen and I imagine he will be until he's no longer around. He's tired all the time and doesn't go out much and even though he usually has on his big, comfy bathrobe, he curls up in blankets just about every chance he gets. For the past couple years, as his health has deteriorated, I think everyone has had in the back of their mind the knowledge that any Christmas could possibly be his last Christmas.

Every year, I make something for my family and everyone opens it together on Christmas Eve. In addition to the gift, I always write up a little something that explains why I'm giving that particular gift. This year, everyone received personalized wooden boxes in which there were a bunch of little business card-size pieces of construction paper with some of my favourite quotes on them. I think it's unfortunately quite easy to forget what's really important in life and for me, the kind of reminder that often works the best is one in the form of words. As I said in the explanation for my gift:

I think they're important and powerful and for me, they're sometimes all I need to remember the things that are ... well, often hard to remember. So, whenever you feel like it ... take a card out of this box and remember. Remember there are basic principles we should strive to live by. There are basic ways we should treat people. And perhaps more importantly, there are basic ways we should be treating ourselves.

After my mom read the explanation, everyone started flipping through some of the quotes and we went around and read a few. When we got to my uncle, you could see he had tears in his eyes (it's almost become my main goal of the gift to see if I can get Big, Strong, Tough Uncle Win to let his guard down and shed a tear or two). In a shaky voice but with a smile on his face that was clearly saying, "amen to this quote," he read one of the first cards he had picked up:

Wake up. You're alive.

It was absolutely perfect. It's a memory I will always have and one that comforts me when I find myself thinking about the day he may not be around to help make new ones with us.