Small Things

Sometimes it’s the small things stored in our brains that have created memories that time has not erased that make us the interesting and unique individuals that we now are; small things that have passed us by without a second thought. One of my memories was of a wiener roast at a friend of my family’s farm and a skinny, freckle-faced red-haired girl chased me away from the bonfire to a dark spot behind the milk house and kissed me on the lips. Perhaps that is why many of the women in my books have red or auburn hair. I am often teased about that from fellow writers.

Speaking of fellow writers, I’ll mention one who is also a retired nurse. Much of her career was spent as a hospice nurse in the Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania area. She writes beautifully in vignettes, short poignant descriptions of her clients that have impacted her. Small almost inconsequential slices of their interactions with her but have impacted her life. She preserves them in the written word and often will share them with us. Those worried about HIPPA, don’t. They are all deceased and because of her, their memories live on.

I have another friend who writes and has taken on the colossal task of writing in alphabetical order, an educational series of the different small insects teaching small children and their parents about these little creatures and the role they play in the ecosystems. Amusing and teaching at the same time, these sets of 2 books, a reading book and a coloring book, present the child and adult with the facts of that insect.

I have wandered from the small idea that caused me to start down this path of writing. The initial thought was of a small drawstring sack that held colored, candy covered bubble gum. It was sold at many grocery stores when I was a kid. Most of us carried them around as an easy way to keep the bubble gum at hand and the small pull string pouch made it easy to store marbles, toys, and money. I used mine to keep the coins that I managed to collect, maybe all of $2.50 cents or so. The memory of this tiny bag has haunted me over the many years. I hid it so well, that it has never reappeared. My siblings say they know nothing of its disappearance and it still remains a small mystery.