What can you write in 5 minutes flat on the prompt “again”? <–Click to Tweet this
This is where a brave and beautiful bunch gather every week to find out what comes out when we all spend five minutes writing on the same topic and then sharing ’em over here.
How to Join:
Want to know how Five Minute Friday got started and how to participate? All the details are here.
Featured Five Minute Friday:
And every week I’ll pick a post that caught my eye and share it down there in my side bar – see where it says “Featured Five Minute Friday”? Yea -that could be you! Hop on over and visit some folk who make fireworks in just five minutes. They inspire me.
How fun is that? And if you’ve got a FMF story you want to share with us? Email me.
Now, set your timer, clear your head, for five minutes of free writing without worrying about getting it right.
1. Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking.
2. Link back here and invite others to join in.
3. And then absolutely, no ifs, ands or buts about it, you need to visit the person who linked up before you & encourage them in their comments. Seriously. That is, like, the rule. And the fun. And the heart of this community..
Oh and Ahem, if you would take pity and turn off comment verification, it would make leaving some love on your post that much easier for folks!
OK, are you ready? Please give us your best five minutes on:::
He calls to me from the bedroom and wants a drink of water. Just one more. So I sneak in next to him and stroke back that cowlick and we talk Michigan. He wants to know what they speak there, what they like to eat, if they visit America sometimes too? No matter how many times I tell him that Michigan is in fact located within America he believes it’s his own country and loves to return there – in the flesh and otherwise in his imagination.
So I walk the edge of Little Traverse lake with him and we watch as he straddles an inner tube, tries to row the canoe. His little sister digs toes into the wet, shallow beach and we all should have put on more sunscreen.
At breakfast he wanders through and sees the snow that’s finally arrived – first time in Virginia this winter. He ruffles his hair, puts hand on hip, exhales and tells us, “yes, this is what I needed.” And the Michigander born snow baby who loves the lake is the first one out with his shovel and wheelbarrow.
Later over hot chocolate I show him the photos of our red car buried in snow the day he was born. He nods. Accepts this truth. His fingers and ears are numb and he is wearing a peace so deep it covers all the rest. I feed him crunchy bagels that he dips in cream cheese and send him back out again.
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