The Over 20 Club

Graphic designed by @fireawaymarmot

I just joined the 5 Minute Freewrite Over 20 Club! And I was nominated by @freewritehouse to share some of my past freewrites, so I went a-digging.

This was my first freewrite! I had completely forgotten about it, but I'm really glad I reread it. I like it and I hope you enjoy it to. Click here for the original post from August 7th, 2018, or read on:

The Lobby
As she waited in the lobby, she forgot what she was waiting for. She was in an empty theatre lobby. There was the carpet, there were the windows, the wall-length windows, with doors set in them, the artwork on the walls. Maybe she came out to see the artwork. It wasn't particularly good. Or rather, it wasn't particularly to her liking. That's all anyone can ever really say about art, anyway, right? She thought this to herself and answered herself, "Yes, that's exactly correct." She liked to validate herself like this, when she shared opinions with herself that she was afraid to share with others. Others might have counter-opinions, and she would not be firm enough to stand in her own. This could be seen as a good thing, she supposed. She was flexible, malleable. Wait. Malleable was not good. It indicated that she was wax, not human. She felt fairly certain she was human. She had walked out here to this lobby, hadn't she? Hadn't she? Looking around, not knowing why she was there or where she had come from, it was hard to validate that thought. Maybe she was a candle, after all, and she was waiting for someone to light her. Then she could show someone the way. Perhaps herself. Perhaps.

I do remember this one. I had a lot of fun imagining the cute little spiders dancing. Whenever I wipe off the windowsills in our place, these tiny little spiders go scurrying away, and I think they are the most adorable creatures. Click here for the original post from October 28th, 2017, or read on:

After Midnight
After midnight is when all the little spiders come out to play. Marnie is one such spider. She lives on the windowsill of a window in an old apartment, in the bedroom facing the west. It gets very hot in the windowsill in the late afternoons, and Marnie drowses in and out of sleep until the sun goes down. When it's dark, she awakens and begins to get excited about midnight. She spends those hours thinking about what she will do with her little spider friends who live on the other windowsills and in the corners and the closet of the room. At midnight, they all gather at the foot of the bed and spend some time circling around one another, greeting each other, seeing who's missing and lamenting the loss of a fallen little spider, whether it be to the dustrag or the vacuum cleaner, a human's foot or a dog's, or just old age (they don't live very long, these little spiders). But there are always new faces, too, for the little spiders reproduce quickly and enjoy their lives to the fullest extent that they may in their short time on the earth. After the greetings and sorrowings have taken place, the dance begins. Some of the little spiders are very skilled at making music by rubbing their legs together, as if they themselves were violins. The music makers take turns so no one doesn't get a chance to dance, for the dance is the funnest part of the evening. Some of the little spiders like to pair off and dance exclusively with one another, and this is allowed and accepted.

And finally, another I'd pretty much forgotten about, but a noteworthy one because it was the first I wrote after having Lochlan, and I wrote it on my 36th birthday! Click here to read the original post from December 22nd, 2017, or read on:

Pill
She woke up wanting to take a pill. Nothing too dramatic, just an ibuprofen. She had a bit of a headache. She wasn't sleeping well ever since she had the baby. It kept her up throughout the night, wanting to nurse at irregular intervals. Taking the pill made her think about taking The Pill. She'd been on the pill for nearly seven years before stopping to try and get pregnant. One pill a day kept the baby away. Funny how easy it was, and then how easy it was to get pregnant when she stopped. And now here was this child that depended on her to survive. She was a transportable life giver.

It was her birthday. 36 years ago she'd been someone else's burden, like her baby was hers now. Burden had such a negative connotation, but she didn't mean it that way. It was more the literal sense of it--a constant weight for her to carry. Not that she always had to carry it, but the weight of the life-giving aspect of breast-feeding was a psychological burden as well. She wasn't resentful of any of it, just mindful of it.

That was a fun little trip. Thanks for joining me! Be sure and check out this week's other nominee, @happycrazycon, and her nomination post here! If you want to join the freewrite fun, start with today's freewrite here!