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Jan Peppler's avatar

Have long loved Annie Dillard!

Thanks for the childhood favorite toy exercise. Immediately I remembered the stuffed donkey that my mother threw away when I wasn’t looking… definitely something for me to unpack!

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Joshua Doležal's avatar

Glad it resonated, Jan! Hope you’re still loving life out West.

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Jan Peppler's avatar

Currently in Sicily and loving that even more. (For instance, it’s not snowing here 😉)

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Emily Kaminsky's avatar

This post has been SAVED for reference. So much here from the metaphors (which are going in my commonplace book!) to the writing prompt (definitely going to riff on my childhood blankie that I softed to near disintegration). My favorite metaphors come from Rush... There are so many!

I wrote a poem once about missing a magnolia tree that is blooming in the backyard of a home that was once mine, and used the blooming crimson watercolor on my sketchbook as a metaphor for the wound I carry of having to leave that home behind. Sharing the short poem here with link to the watercolor: https://open.substack.com/pub/emilykaminsky/p/sweet-jane-magnolia

So I dress

My wound with crimson blooms

Atop the cream of mother’s milk

To form a cup to hold

Lost dreams once more.

In fascimile, she appears

Releasing my desire to resurrect

The ephemeral past.

Joy from my page springs,

Palpable optimism

So close I taste it.

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Joshua Doležal's avatar

Such a lovely watercolor and poem, Emily -- thank you. Especially meaningful because I'm watching the magnolia in my own yard begin to bloom. I've only lived here for about 15 months, but the previous owner left many gifts, including that lovely tree.

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Emily Kaminsky's avatar

Oh wow. They are truly amazing beings. The tree in my old backyard represents so many of my younger self's dreams and hopes. Amazing how we can infuse ourselves with the essence of and graft on to such a thing as a dwarf magnolia tree. And then miss it so much. Definitely a symbol of an unlived life! And they are so ephemeral, giving up their blossoms usually too soon to a storm of some sort (metaphor for the impact of life's traumas!). Give your new adopted tree much love, it will love you back tenfold.

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Teyani Whitman's avatar

Thank you Josh. You just sparked a thought for a possible new essay…… “My childhood was a _________”

Perhaps this was just the beginning I needed for today’s inquiry, but I’m curious: Have you written a series of writing prompts at any time?

I might begin with:

My childhood was a forgotten book, blank pages mostly, with a couple photos haphazardly stuffed in the creases. While I write descriptions of these photos, the words remain someone else’s memory.

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