Lately, I have been thinking about stating out loud (in print) “I am a writer!” While I feel more or less nervous about this pronouncement, those words have been brewing in my head and heart for almost a year.
One of my favorite bloggers suggested to his fellow bloggers to step up, show up and make this statement. He then said, “Every writer must be willing to be embarrassed.”
I decided right then, I can do that! So, please enjoy this piece I recently wrote in my first writing class in San Miguel de Allende with Rosemary Cabe.
I wake from my long, deep sleep and sense the countryside’s dark silence. Lying still, I wait.
Snuggling under warm, friendly down and crocheted white blankets from yesteryear, eager to discover which sound will wake up the day.
Will it be the “breakfast” whine of Louie, Chuy and Edna insisting on kibble or will I hear the cocksure alarm of Mr. Macho, the swaggering, blackest man on the ranch crowing his “cock-a-doodle-doo” to say, “Wake up. Watch out. I’m here!”
No, in fact, it is the chirping sound of the little ones as they flutter their wings at “mach” speed, impossible to see, staring in my bedroom window, glaring with stink eyes, saying, “Hey, our feeder is empty.”
I find my heart filled with appreciation for the steadfastness of my ranch life. Rancho Waena cradles me in her arms, wraps me in her security as I reciprocate with feelings of gratitude for my Mexican life.
A little later, with carrots thrust into my pockets, I walk down the curving, rock-lined path towards the soft expectant whinnies for the carrots that I carry. A delicious smell of hay and manure greet me, filling my nose with a perfume that unites all horse lovers.
If I linger too long, scratching horsey muzzles nuzzling looking for more; I will be assaulted with the demanding, fussy sound of hee-haws from the other side of the barn saying, “What about us?” So I say good-bye to my equine friends and trade carrots for silence as I feed Gus and Woodrow their carrot appetizers.
When it is time to take my leave for the city, I slowly draw out my departure, making sure to fill my eyes, ears and nose with the sights, sounds and smells of my home sweet home.