Writing...A word who's etymology brings up descriptors such as "to score, outline, draw the figure of." But really...what does it mean to write? how often do we do it? and most importantly who does it for us?
Starting from a young age, the creative mind of a child quickly takes to using words and making them permanent on a medium to realize he has inadvertently captured thought and in capturing thought, represented reality. He is also notices, if he writes long enough...a story emerges. A good one? To his mind - yes. To the parent who reads it - joy. Joy that the child has participated in by the free act of organizing thought into words. He repeats the act, and through words his being emerges.
This magic of writing seems to enchant not only the frivolous child and all his humble thoughts, but is also read by the person who wills to read it. It is a skill I once sat down to enjoy and play with much like enjoying the sensation of soft green grass on ones back. However, somewhere along life, writing became laborious work. Droning boredom. And joy leaves. I want joy back. I want to write.