i think

that i wanted to be a writer for my whole life

but it wasn't until the spring when i was 11 years old that i really really really

knew

a little fleamarketfarmersmarketanythingmarket thing in downtown new bern. my sister liked the fruit and honey, my brother liked free samples of anything at all, mom and dad wanted all the homemade wine

but i

i was changed

we walked past an old Woman with a table smallsmallsmall much tinier than the rest and she called out to me

i was still young-ish, awkward and shy. sketchbook in hand, i approached The Woman with my head down and tail tucked timid between my chubby legs

“do you like to write?” she asked me, her eyes on the sketchbook nestled delicately in the crook of my arm. i nodded, of course- even though it was a sketchbook not a notebook and for drawing not writing

i did like to write, but neverever in my life had i really finished anything- i was 11 after all

but she was a Real writer. Real books. Real published books. books she was selling, books she wanted to show me.

it was a book about a girl who loved horses, a girl who loved horses and got to stay on a farm but her granddad wouldn’t let her get the horse she loved because it had four white hooves. stupiddumbidiotic excuse to crush this girl’s dream to a pile of grey useless rubble. and worst of all, this girl had to conquer the Almighty King, the DREAD of all dreads: Math Homework.

“us writers hate math homework, isnt that right?” The Woman asked me. i nodded like a bobblehead- wobblewobble- math homework was the worst

then before i knew it, i had to leave. i wanted to buy the book, still regret to this day that i didnt

The Woman had 2 more words for me. 2 words that changed me.

“keep writing,” The Woman told me.

it stuck to me. a slimy octopus in my face. an octopus who wanted to be my friend.

now here i am 3 years later.

keep writing. 

thats what ill do

keep writing keep writing keep writing keep writing

thank you, where ever who ever you are

you don’t remember me, probably

but you changed my life.