Hello friends!
I wish to tell you about the one event swirling around in my head besides arranging care for my sister before moving on to my writing update. Here then are my thoughts on my high school reunion later this year.
I stood before the mirror, noting the wrinkles around my eyes and the lines that bracketed my mouth.
The email about my high school reunion had stirred a whirlwind of emotions, bringing back memories long buried beneath the layers of time.
Decades had passed since I walked the long verandas of the all-girls school nestled on the vibrant island of Jamaica, a place where the echoes of British education reverberated through the classrooms.
As I traced the lines of my reflection, I couldn’t help but feel a wave of anxiety wash over me. Reconnecting with the women from my past feels like a journey backwards through time. Would they realize I carried the mere echoes of the person I was back then? How would they perceive me now?
Memories flooded back, painting vivid scenes of laughter in the classrooms, whispered secrets under the shade of towering mango trees, and evening cramming sessions before exams.
I remembered the strict teachers who instilled discipline with a firm hand, yet also nurtured our curiosity and thirst for knowledge. The British education system had meant structure and tradition (uniforms!), shaping not only our minds but also our characters.
Those high school years encompassed more than academics. Friendships from those formative years helped me navigate adulthood’s challenges. The lessons learned, both inside and outside the classroom, had prepared me for the complexities of the world beyond the school’s walls.
As I took a deep breath and gathered my courage to confirm my attendance, I realized the reunion was not just about reminiscing, but also about celebrating the women we had become.
The reunion will rekindle the fires of our shared history, the bonds that transcend time and distance. I know the island of Jamaica and my high school have imprinted a legacy of strength, resilience, and sisterhood that will continue to shape my journey.
Now that I’ve told you about my anxieties related to attending my high school reunion, what say you?
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Here, in a prose poetry format, is an update of my writing progress. A tad cheeky, I know.
As my keyboard hums with the cadence of creation, I tread the path of a storyteller, embroidering dreams and realities onto fabric that mirrors the labyrinthine (by the way, I love this word! I love the way it rolls off the tongue when you say it out loud) corridors of my imagination.
With each word penned, each verse sculpted, and each tale spun, I march forward, a solitary traveler in the realm of words, guided by the flickering light of inspiration and the promise of completion on the distant horizon.
June unfurls into July with threads of diligence and patience.
Novel
Amidst the labyrinth of words, my novel, in its second draft, moves at the pace of a gentle stream meandering through a landscape of revisions.
The journey is slow, akin to the growth of a seed into a mighty oak, each word a tender leaf unfurling under the sun of scrutiny.
Poetry Collection
In the garden of my poetic musings, a collection blooms like a bouquet of varied blossoms.
The poems, handpicked like precious gems, find their places in the various sections.
Accompanied by black and white photography at the beginning of each section, the collection takes shape.
A friend’s hands, skilled in the art of design, will use my own photography to craft covers that cloak the verses in garments of allure.
Short Story Collection
Amongst the cobwebbed corridors of memory, old short stories stir, awakening from a slumber like ancient spirits roused by a summoning spell.
Dust motes swirl in the air as I breathe life into these tales, polishing the rough edges and infusing new tales with the breath of creativity.
This anthology, a treasure trove of narratives old and new, remains a treasure chest locked with the promise of unveiling its riches only in the coming year.
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