This is not the entire essay in itself; those that know me pretty well may understand this, while those that don't may be scratching their heads. I don't want to share this piece in it's entirety because I'd like to get it published someday, in a form where handfuls and handfuls of people can read it.
Here is a small section of what I've titled A Little Piece of Sunshine
I sat in the water,
letting my forearms rest against the concrete and trying to ignore the stinging
combination of sunburn and chemicals on my back. I sat up in an attempt to try
and relieve myself of the pain, when I noticed that the sun was going down,
transforming the sky into an array of pinks, oranges, and yellows. I shivered
in awe, despite the fact that it was eighty degrees. I had witnessed a fair
amount of sunsets back home, but there was something about this particular one
that deeply imprinted itself into my poignant photographic memory.
I considered myself a spiritual woman, attending Church
on Sundays and proclaiming that I had a relationship with God. Yet, this was
one of the first moments where I truly sensed His presence; the palm trees
danced in an easy sway, while laughter and conversation almost transformed into
a kind of music. For the first time in months, I was genuinely happy; my family
was all together in one place, where we weren’t fighting or worrying about
money. Personally, I had paradise at my fingertips. It was one of my first
experiences of truly living in the moment; of somehow capturing a piece of time
and savoring it with all that I have.
That following morning, I sat down on the back patio and
sipped my ice-cold Frappuccino, because it was difficult to drink hot coffee there,
even at nine o’clock in the morning. I wrote in my journal, Dear God, thank you for these blessings;
thank you for my family, and all the little things that I tend to take for
granted. And thank you for being in my life.
Seven years have passed, many of which were filled with haze,
tears, and confusion. In those years, I have managed to carry that experience
with me, particularly in the way someone would carry a lucky trinket or a
special piece of jewelry. I’ve learned to take note of the smallest of details,
allowing me to recall what would be deemed unimportant by our fast-paced, media
saturated culture. I collect memories the way some collect seashells; beautiful
artifacts to be stored or displays in special places. But instead of a bag or a
bucket, they’re stored in the deep crevices of my mind and heart. And instead
of a jar or some kind of table or surface, they display themselves over and
over again in my mind’s eye, or in the content of my writing.
I realize that the ending appears rather abrupt; because this is only a small portion, I didn't know what exactly to put without having to include the entire ending.
As I said, this is the beginning of my writing down my life story, in a way that I don't usually do on my blog. I want to write a series of essays concerning various aspects of my life, from relationships to dealing with Cerebral Palsy in various stages. I don't know which essays I'll choose to publish since they'll most likely be very personal. For now, I'm praying that God will give me the courage to write what I feel the need to write, and direction on what should be shared.
God gave me this gift, and I want to make a difference. I just wonder what that impact will or what it does look like.
