IWSG & Blogging News
7 months ago
Who We Are
My grandparents lived on a hill in an island, and to get there we had to ride a ferry boat, drive several miles to get to the bottom of the hill, and hike up the path to their house on foot. As kids, it was quite an adventure. As adults, it was literally painful--sore legs, achy backs, and numb arms from carrying whiny kids who refused to use their own feet.
But as soon as we'd get to the top, the view of the ocean and the coconut trees waving their fronds at us was breathtaking. It was worth the climb and the sweat and tears.
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| By mesonprojekt |
My grandpa owned several animals: dogs, roosters, chickens a-plenty and their little chicks, geese and goslings, ducks, pigs, a cow, a carabao (water buffalo in the Philippines), goats, and of course, his pet monkey. Who needs a zoo, right? We loved it there.
I could probably tell you a million-and-one stories of our adventures, but I will only tell you one today. My siblings and I witnessed the birthing of three little kids plus one--a runt. Sure we were seeing one of the miracles of life happening right before our very eyes, and yes we didn't care for the gross details of it, but we were more focused on the baby goats and the idea of "owning and naming" them. We couldn't actually take them home with us--my mother would've had a big fit. But we were ecstatic when Grandpa said we could pick our favorites. So naturally, we fought over the prettiest, or the biggest, and no one wanted the runt, which was scrawny, covered in slimy goo, and was quivering on its four thin legs. When my younger siblings started fighting, I, being older than the rest of them nitpicky lot, took the runt for myself and named it after me. Yes, I did. I was feeling sorry for myself, I believe. Poor little Cherie! (the goat, not me.)
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| By BryanAlexander |
Our squabbles over, we ran around like wild ducklings and chased each other until it was time to go home. Down the hill, back to the dock, across the sea, and more driving--at which point, we were probably snoring in the backseat of my dad's car.
A few weeks later, we went to visit our grandparents. This time, high excitement ruled the day at the prospect of seeing our goat counterparts (yes, the siblings were copycats and also named their goats after themselves) having grown a little bit bigger. Would they remember us? Would Grandpa let us play with them?
At the top of the hill, we learned the truth. A snake had eaten the kids. Only one survived. And that was poor little Cherie, who was probably too slow to keep up with the others and thus escaped their fate.
*closes story book*
What? You're waiting for the moral of the story? Good grief people, must I do everything here?
Oh, alright. Here it comes.
We, unpublished writers, cramming in our hectic days and sleepless nights into a Word document filled with dreams and sighs and longing....
We, of the unseen, unacknowledged lot who squint at the screen with blurry eyes, with fingers cramped from typing, and not getting a darn thing for all this work we're doing....
We, who keep on writing because to stop would be to carve out our souls, like Jack o'lanterns come Hallow's Eve left hollow and empty on doorsteps, our grinning faces plastered on for the world to see while we die...slowly die and rot inside.
We are the runts who watch from the sidelines, biding our time because we know. We are survivors of countless heartaches enveloped in standard rejection forms. We are survivors because we stand on quivering legs and keep on standing.
We are artists who dare to dream. For in dreaming, we live and create life. This is who we are and we do not forget.
Our journey is our own--whether through vast waters of staggering depths, or steep hills under the scorching sun, we keep on moving. We meet kindred souls belaboring under their own struggles, and when we look at them we see mirrors. A thousand faces, beating under one heart.
Words skitter from our minds into paper, ink spills oozing black and red...our bloodline.
Soon, soon we will reach the top and the coconut fronds will meet us, greet us like old friends. We will triumph and feel, here...here is where we belong.
We are writers.
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| By alancleaver_2000 |
To all writers, cheers! Never stop dreaming.
P.S. I just want to thank Carissa for handing me another Versatile Blogger Award. You are awesome, sistah!
Also, Scott Niven, sci-fi and fantasy author extraordinaire whose e-books are available now, awarded me both the Versatile Blogger and Blog on Fire Award. Thank you!
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- Precy Larkins
- I'm a YA writer who loves to read. Also a mom of 3. My life is crazy but always fun. :) I'm a member of The YA Club, a group blog about YA books. You can also find me blogging at: http://precylarkins.wordpress.com Represented by the lovely Julia A. Weber of J. A. Weber Literaturagentur GmbH. Thanks for stopping by! Email me: writercherie@gmail.com
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14 comments:
I've awarded you two awards: The Versatile Blogger Award AND the Blog on Fire Award! Stop by my website to claim your prize! :)
Scott
www.scott-niven.com
This was BEAUTIFUL and so inspiring! You are such an amazingly descriptive writer--I loved it!
I say it every day (and on lots of blogs), but I think writers are such awesome people, and I feel honored to be a part of such an amazing community.
Wonderful post, Cherie! Thanks for sharing!
What a wonderful post! It was exactly what I needed to hear! Thank you!
OMGoodnessPie. You are an incredible writer. When do I get to read your books?? Hmm?? I know that this is just a sampling of what you can do. Lady, you have the gift.
You made me happy and proud to be a runt.Hee
Oh, one last thing. A SNAKE? How big was this snake? I'm really, really creeped out by that. EEK.
Aw, thanks guys! Glad you all liked my dramatic, self-serving post. I was trying to remind myself that I can do this. You all know what I mean. We have down moments, no? Then last night I remembered the little goat story. It stuck with me.
@Anita: I'd never seen the snake, thank goodness. But I heard it used to eat the chickens in my grandpa's farm. Yeah, creepy right? *shudders*
I am very happy with your short story about grandpa and the 3 litle goats. And I missed this event and papa terribly. I wished we can go back to the place and the time and spent this moment again. Thanks for remembering cher. I love you dearly .
I so loved this blog. It's so true. I went there last Saturday and Oh my! Im sweating when I reached the house. I didnt count how many pauses I made just to reach the top. Auntie Zabeth and Auntie Lota greeted us. The house is under renovation. I sure missed the old times when all of us are there for a family gathering.
Hi Ma! Thanks and love you too.
@Rapunzel: Wish I was there. ;) Have fun!
That was wonderful, Cherie :) I love the way you defined all of us so perfectly and beautifully.
Guess what? I have an award for you! I'm so glad that I get to give you one this time.
Loved it. How big was the SNAKE? Poor wee little goats.
@Caitlin: THANK YOU! So sweet of you. I'll feature you and the award on my Monday post. ;)
@Jenny: I'm guessing it was a fairly big snake. I know I'm picturing Anaconda in my brain, though I doubt it was anywhere as big as that. LOL. *skewed imagination here*
The baby goats were pretty tiny. Maybe it wasn't just one snake. Hmm.
hi cherie, this is auntie zabeth, i like your blog so much, it brings tears to my eyes recalling the happy times I had in the farm.... I am here at Ate Nenet's house when I read this blog together with manang norma and ronnette, keep om writing girl.. you have the potential of becoming a very good writer... will go back to the island tomorrow to see to it that the renovation of the house is finish before I go back there...did not see a snake but I have seen some "tuko" or geiko.
@before I go back home to AZ. Happy Mother's Day Cher....
This is so pretty! I'm getting teary eyed. Thanks for sharing this post!
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