“To gain your own voice, you have to forget about having it heard.” —Allen Ginsberg {click to tweet}

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 #FiveMinuteFriday”? Yea -that could be you! Hop on over and visit some folk who make fireworks in just five minutes. They inspire me.

Meet the #FMFParty Writers:

And did you know there’s a whole community of writers that connect online before the prompt goes live on Friday nights? They use the Twitter hashtag #FMFParty and are about the most encouraging group around.

Special Mention:

So one of my favorite things is to see the trail of encouraging comments you all leave for each other. And sometimes someone goes above and beyond the usual standard of awesome. Last week that someone was Denise, who was also celebrating her 28th wedding anniversary. A fellow FMF writer sent me this email: “everywhere I look someone else is ALWAYS leaving encouraging comments, and I know there are many times where I don’t get a lot of comments but Denise is ALWAYS commenting and always just being amazing.  She is everywhere!”

So let’s all pop over to Denise’s place today and wish her a belated 28th anniversary and a round of thanks for being such a great encourager. Whoot! Three cheers for Denise!

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..

OK, are you ready? Please give us your best five minutes on:::



I drive. I drive and listen to the music and part of me is tempted to pull over under the cherry blossoms and just let a pink snowfall cover my day. I grew up under purple trees that blossom every October in South Africa. There is a homesick hole in my minivan this week as a seven-year-old asks me over and over again how to say “home” or “friend” or “dog” in Afrikaans. I don’t know what the word is for “homesick”; I do know what it is for “longing.”

I wake up at 2am and Pete is at the kitchen table. He’s been gone 3 days and he’s back sitting in his boxers and catching up on email. Jackson and I stumble toward him out of a bad dream and he’s so solid, so real. He smells of old spice body wash. There isn’t time to catch up until much later. Early morning and all afternoon the kids are so caught up in catching up with him. We try to talk over three voices and hamburgers on the stove but we give up and it’s not till around ten that we can try again.

After nearly two decades together he knows more about South Africa than I do. He knows the smells and tastes and accents and population count. He knows the sickness and crime and heart ache. He knows where to buy hot cinnamon sugar pancakes on Saturday mornings. We can sit on a sofa in Virginia that made its way back from the southern hemisphere with us. We are here now but we lived there together.

The baby stirs. The radio is too loud. The boys keep getting back up for water.

The fan spins slowly. And I write these words.