People will always surprise you with their awesome if you’re paying attention.
At the check out line, in your Zumba class, along the side walk. It’s like we’re longing to love each other and sometimes that can’t help but spill out of the business man in his perfectly pressed suit when the baby girl with the blonde curls waves at him.
Last week I met three kids who added a whole new level of awesome to Five Minute Friday for me.
Three girls ages 8, 6 and 2 who have been taking the writing challenge with you all. Their mom, Tina, has been linking up their writing.
It kind of blew me away. My three kids have no clue we host a writing workshop here every week. And it’s never occurred to me to invite them.
But it occurred to Tina.
How fun is that! I figured those girls could pick us a good writing prompt this week and sure enough they did. Imagine was all their idea.
So if you’re new here, and want to know how Five Minute Friday got started? All the details are here.
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!
Because, as we all know, the most important rule of Five Minute Friday is leaving an encouraging comment for the person who linked up before you. So getting to feature one of your fine posts is like frosting as far as I’m concerned.
So, 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 me your best five minutes on:::
It’s purple October. There’s a tree blooming at the top of a steep cobbled drive and a carpet of petals that smell the littlest bit sweet when the tires crush over them. Rolling uphill and home again she needs to watch out for the swing strung across the drive. Little boys fight for their turn; wait fitfully, impatiently in line.
Parking at the top of that steep lane is an art and a science and her dad will helpfully hang out the top window and yell down directions in both English and Afrikaans if you like. She can hear him from across the Atlantic. Almost.
Jasmine blooms, whispers, comforts, remembers her a season of home.
The kids that burst out the front door come in all shades of human. Her sons will go to bed too late tonight, be up too early tomorrow. Her baby daughter doesn’t know how to hold all this new wonder in her hands. The family hold her long.
Someone somewhere is serving melktert. Someone is pouring tea into Spode. Someone is restraining sticky fingers from grabbing at the delicate cups and saucers and pouring smaller portions into studier mugs. Sentences begin and end in different languages. Bath time is a long ritual. Cats have to be fed. And dogs. And fish. And always one more mouth.
She closes her eyes and they’re all there. Only one long, Southern Cross wish away.
If you’re reading in an email – just click here to come over and join us.