posted on Feb, 15 2013 @ 12:08 AM
There was a time, when I was a young wipper-snapper, that I didn't care about much. A carefree life, yep, I lived it, without a care in the whole
wide world. Then, responsibility came a knockin', and I soon found myself a proud papa. Yup, all of life changes when they put that baby in your
The first time I held my son, my whole world changed, and I realized I was no longer the most important person in the world. While I held him that
first time, a fragile helpless living being, my heart melted and gave way to something I never knew before.
I was now a father.
Sure, there's no tutorial. You wing it. You take what you know, and give it to them. You care for them, change their diapers, feed them, and hold
them when they cry. The first few months were hell, nary a night where I got a solid night's sleep, and I'd go to work all bleery eyed, but nobody
said nothing to me for being the worse for wear. I was proud, and all the indignation in the world wouldn't change the way I felt.
They grow up, yanno. They grow up quick. Too quick for me. As I sit here typin' this all bleary eyed from the memories, he's in college, prolly
wooing the cute girls, but he don't tell me none of that. I set him free, and he went off into the world, as much a man as me, at that young age,
when I thought I knew everythin'. Least he ain't the know it all like I was. He has respect, and courtesy, and calls people maam, and sir. It's
a bit old fashioned, but it's what I taught him.
Sure, I ain't no dummy. I'm thinki'g he guffs it up around his college pals, tryna fit in, but deep inside, he got what he has from me. When I
talk to him on the phone, he calls me Dad, and that means the whole world to me. It makes me proud.
I ask him about his girlfriends, but it's like pullin' teeth. He says he don't talk to girls, but I was his age once. He sure is, he just ain't
sayin'. He's just tryna to surprise me, just like I did with my pa. I said the same thing to my dad, then went to visit him one day with a girl on
my elbow. Like father like son, it's all the same, just a different day with new surprises.
Now I ain't tryna step on nobody's toes here, but gettin' another writin' contest up an runnin' is like pullin' teeth. There ain't nothin'
better than sittin' down after a hard days workin', and puttin' a few words onto the screen. I may be ol' as dirt, but that ain't stoppin' me
from wantin' to speak my piece. These here writin' contests, well they mean sumthin' to certain folk, and us folks like to know we have a way to
get our thoughts outta our heads. We like to tell our stories, and 'bellish them with our imaginashens.
Yes, I love to write stories. To simply write, thousands of words into a word processor, yes, I've done that. The fact is, nobody reads them.
I've printed out stories I've written, and people read them, saying they are good stories, but the audience is limited to peers in real life. The
best stories are those that spring to mind, inspired by thoughts based on a theme, and laid out when you least expect them to come. If there is
anything about a Writer, it's the fact that you don't really know what you are going to type next. You flow, you edit, and after a satisfying
amount of toil, you present. There's no sanity to the process.
All I'm sayin' is that writin' is like pullin' teeth. There ain't no easy way to do it, least that I can see, save for just doin' it. You
can't be thinkin' too much about it, and it's easy if you just let happen. I'm not sayin' I'm a good writer, heck no, I'm just an ol' timer
with lotsa stories I ain't told yet.
If you're willin' to hear 'em, I'm willin' to share.