Tuesday, October 26, 2010

what i would miss

I just did an interesting writing prompt from Old Friend From Far Away by Natalie Goldberg:
"Tell me what you will miss when you die."
The instructions were to write for ten minutes without censoring yourself. Here's what I wrote:

My kids

My spouse

My family

My friends

My dog

Beautiful fall days

Walks along the canal with my dog

Getting lost in a book

Taking a nap on a cold afternoon

Knitting with friends

The feeling of euphoria when I write something good


Good food


Wondering at art

A hot bath after exercise

Physical intimacy (all kinds)

The happy feeling when I unexpectedly run into someone I like

Learning new things

Aha! moments

Seeing people do good things

Being proud of my children

Noisy gatherings around my dining room table

Doing fun things for the first time

Doing familiar things that make me happy

Connecting creatively or intellectually

Making new friends

Having old friends and family members who 'get' me


Fresh starts

Clean sheets

Small kindnesses

Spectacular acts of bravery

Feeling proud of myself

The way the pavement smells after a summer rain

The possibility of tomorrow

What about you?


zoom said...

The possibility of loving a grandchild.

A cool breeze on a hot day.

The intense phase of a new hobby or interest.


laurie said...

Zoom - Those are lovely.

Lene Andersen said...

god... everything.

The promise of a good book, the people I love (and I'm not naming them all or I'll be here for hours), the spark of a new idea, my cat's purr and the ways she squeals at me from a deep sleep to make sure I'm still around. The sun on my face on a summer day, dogs playing in the park, a good rant, the smell of roasting garlic, the taste of an orange, feeling full after a great meal (okay, I'm starting to feel stuck in the gastronomical), the feel of soft wool against my skin, the smell of horses, the smell of rain, as well as snow. Orgasms, getting in the groove of writing and looking up to find that an hour has passed by and you have no idea where it went, idiot politicians as well as good ones, the light filtering through the first tender green shoots of spring, the sound of rustling leaves in the fall, the hush after snow fall (now stock in weather) and...


laurie said...

Lene, that's poetry. Thank you.