November 18, 2012
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Inventor of Dreams
I am transported into a familiar world of longing, empty, hopeful writing. The idea fresh in my head that maybe I can capture just one bit of all the world floating around me and nail it to that piece of paper once again.
It won’t last for long, but God bless it while it is here.
Darn it, they’ve already thought of all the good ways/ideas/forms of writing! What is left for me? Last week I sat on the bed with the two sisters I am living with and we crocheted. They crocheted, and I did the single stitch that I know how to do. Scratch that—they taught me one more. And now, with my new knowledge, I feel the burn to create something new. I, Rachel Winzeler, am going to make the most beautiful crochet bracelet ever imagined. In the next hour.
It didn’t happen. But it is that pull that I have in almost everything I do. To invent something new. Make my mark on the world. To do something truly beautiful. To inspire someone. My two stitch crochet and my writing just reveal this throbbing desire more than other areas. But it is there—always there.
And someday, gosh darn it, I will succeed. In some laughable random way. But I will feel it and will glow about it anyways.
