Been thinkin'...

about my writing. Been wonderin' if I should write more. Been tryin' to find the courage.

I receive a nudge now and then from different folks, and it causes me to pause and ponder my dreams.

A long time ago, I shared the following excerpt from my writing journal with a dear friend. She was quiet for a bit before she said to me, "Lori, you need to tell stories." She is gone now, but her words have come back to me...gently nudging me.

His blue eyes were similar to the vast Montana sky—clear and endless. The Big Sky Country, as it is aptly nicknamed, is so blue and void of any texture that it renders the artist’s palette useless, as only one shade of clear blue will duplicate that pureness. Despite the apparent clarity, the complexities of life and land had taken their toll on those eyes, though he shared the same blue with his son whose vision was yet to be clouded by reality and the harsh elements of the ranch and life. His eyes held the hope only a young man can have with dreams as vast as the Montana sky, but after all what did dreams hurt? Sometimes it is tempting to share those realities, but is it worth dampening the enthusiasm of youth? No. Better to nurture the dreams and gently hold a hand out hoping that the outcroppings are less cumbersome for the younger generation.

A slow smile crossed his face as the young man beside him aptly jumped out to open the gate and drag it across the road before turning to face his father with a knowing nod.

The younger blue eyes watched the battered truck slowly ease through the fence and roll to a stop patiently as he secured the gate with the rusted wires reinforced with each generation. As he briskly returned to the familiar green door and hopped aboard once more, he was anxious to observe the pasture today, as he and his father silently scanned the hills, valleys, rocks and trees for any changes in the landscape. This was his favorite part. Silence never made him uncomfortable instead it was comforting to not have to be forced to share the words that never really described the feeling anyway. At college, the constant chatter and banter of his roommates sometimes suffocated him.

The lines in the man’s face were relaxed too. He also found comfort in this quiet companionship. Suddenly a hawk swooped down and snatched a little field mouse from the hillside. The eyes of both men immediately stopped on the scene and watched the hawk soar skyward again before continuing their wordless scan of their route. There is a writing conference in February in San Francisco, and I'm thinkin' it may be time to go.