Concrete: An Abstraction on the Necklace
Lately as I consider voice, a writer’s voice, I wonder how it is for you. If we all have one, I wonder about other things, other things that most of us have. Like your necklace, for example. If voice is cadence and music and space, how you write out the matter in your life and the meaning it gives, what about your necklace? It’s certainly different than mine. So how is it for you?
I chose the one that says “create.” It’s important to me: this word engraved in the necklace, the sound of it off the tongue. The time, too, was important. Lisa Leonard ties a scarf in her huge curls and dresses so easily, her gracious presence. She gave this necklace to me, heavy and silver now against the skin.
I was the third youngest at the beach house for our (in)courage retreat, and I felt it rightly, huffed into sudden tears every time I looked around and realized my place, how good it is to have big sisters who are shirking timidity and who are lovingly offering their art and admitting the struggle.
Sometimes my voice feels the weight of hush, the silence of taking in the story. One spoke of her offended heart, the God grudge, while her beautiful hair, dirty blonde and long, the way her hands explain the wrestle while light shines from her eyes. One woman after another said “thankful,” “thankful,” thankful,” even while dirt rimmed our nails and we limped in our ill-chosen shoes.
We dripped sweat together crouched down in the quiet mulch, digging our hands in and filling buckets and spreading it out. We laid sod, too, for Habitat for Humanity. It made sense that we get dirty together, the Christian girls who drink from Bible verse mugs and connect in the air. We’re working it out, placing our hands in prayer, wrestling with our own blaring questions to God.
I came from the dirt. When I removed my necklace, it was coated in salt. It said CREATE. At home now I wear it under my neckline where people can’t see. I remember the dirty knees and girlie arm muscles pushing wheel barrels toward the house. It was only 2 hours, how my heart grew.
At home, Titus finds the chain and tugs it, like he does, like he tugs at all the things at my heart.
On Mondays I’m going to write on writing, which means that mostly I’ll write out spirit by practicing a little with the concrete things in my life and maybe in a fictional life. We’ll see. If you want to mess around with these little prompts, I’m always happy for you to put your link in my comments. Write on writing; practice writing; share it with us. Next week is on THE STAIRS. Thank you always for coming here.
Make sure to check out Lisa Leonard Designs. Her art is legit.