July seemed to sprint by, and here we are with August in full bloom! I have to admit that I’m not looking forward to sharing my writing time with teaching and grading, but it is something that has to be done.
I’m in my last week of summer vacation before my full time teaching career steps into the middle of my writing time, and I have been trying to figure out how to enjoy those last fleeting moments of summer. The conclusion I have arrived at is that I will certainly have a bad case of summertime blues!
Flipping through some old manuscripts that I began but never finished, I ran across one titled, “Summer of 1955.” I had written about 6 chapters, plus I recall writing out the outline. I’ve misplaced the outline over the years, but I still had those 6 chapters. Reading over something that I began many years ago (13 years maybe?), I was awestruck by the growth I’ve made over the years. The piece was still very raw and needed work, but the details were there ready to be molded into something wonderful. Unfortunately, my father is no longer alive to remind me of how the story ended. It’s his story, you know? Tales of his childhood pieced together to form a story about love, compassion, and what it means to be a hero.
It has been a long summer without him, but I do know that I will continue to make him proud with my writing and my teaching.
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