Snowflakes

"Ticket number 57602"
We had that ticket on our table in front of us, Justin ripped it off and went up to the stage to collect our prize.
A few tickets later "57605"
We also had that ticket on our table and Justin went to collect our second raffle prize.
"Number 576508"
Again we had that number and Justin went up to get our third prize.

"Wow that table must have some horseshoes" the announcer for the prizes said.

We were pretty lucky tonight---maybe we should buy a lottery ticket?

I have memories stored away in photographs, in the back of my mind and in the box of notebooks in a box in the closet, some of those memories haunt me, some make me laugh and others make me cry or smile. The one thing I'm positive about is that I am glad I took so many pictures and wrote down the moments in my life that mattered.

I remember my first notebook/journal. It was a blue doutang with loose leaf paper in it. I hid it in between the mattress on my bed. I wrote about the boys I had crushes on and the teachers who I liked and the teachers who I hated. I wrote about the fights I had with my parents and my friends. It documented my life in a time when NOTHING made any sense. I tried to make sense of my world by writing it down, asking questions. Not until now that I re read that faded, tattered doutang do I understand why that world was so hard.

10 years later I still keep a journal/notebook with pretty covers, and I continue to write about my relationships, family, friends. I document my life now as an adult, as a  teacher, and soon to be wife. They will go into that box when I am finished and will be a place I can go to and look back at this part of my life.

I've been thinking a lot about being a writer. I have always had this calling to be a writer, but thinking back I remember more of the hurt and the criticism that comes with being a writer then the good. A poem of mine ripped apart by someone I loved, my personal thoughts read and used against me were just a couple of the hard times I went through as a writer. It is still hard to always be honest and truthful and to share my life, my stories, my words with everyone/anyone.
Writing has also helped me to say this things that wouldn't come out of my mouth, to help me express my thoughts and feelings and to help me become the person I am today.

I lost my words for a while, they are coming back to me in strange ways, I welcome them back into my life and hope to be sharing more with you soon. Writing is a part of my past, present and future.