This last Sunday I visited a writer’s club near my house. There weren’t many there due to the very nice weather but it was a good time regardless. The three other folks there, usually they have around 15 or so, were a mix of authors. One lady has two books out, POD/self published like mine. The other two had no published works. We exchanged some background information with each other, mostly mine since they knew each other, and went to the business at hand.
We looked at some in process stuff by two of the people, critiqued parts of it, and made comments on the texts: material from a fantasy and a mystery. It all sounded good. Not the type of things I read personally but I could appreciate their work. Then two of the authors had to leave and I remained there alone with Ruby, the lady who was the organizer of the club. She asked to see my book, a copy of which I had brought.
She thumbed through some of it, stopped to read some short parts, and then simply told me “you have a way with words”. I of course thanked her immediately but then asked what part made her feel that way specifically? She picked up the book and again and told me it was the note “Do You Ever Wonder” and read some of it back to me. So if you are curious about that note in “Notes To Stephanie: Middle Aged Love Letters And Life Stories” here is the exact part she read back to me:
Do You Ever Wonder?
Do you ever wonder what lies over the side of a hill? Underneath a cloud? Beyond the horizon and the curve of the world itself? Or wonder who lies underneath such sights as you gaze at them?
On a wintry day with high cirrus clouds streaming in from the west or the southwest, the visible curve of those clouds stretches back for maybe a hundred miles. Who lives under the overarching stream of whiteness? What towns are there? Whose lives are unfolding there? Seeing such things and thinking about who or what lies there gives me a sense of wonder and excitement that is hard to explain, but is there as sure as I tell you about it here.
And underneath the clouds high up and far away from where our lives unfold, do the people there look up as I do and wonder who or what lies underneath their distant sky? Underneath everyone’s skies are people like you and me, living and hopefully loving.
All of the little notes I have written try to ask a question, make a point about life, or convey some emotion all of us feel. And this one was no different. Indeed I wrote them to someone now gone from my life but the message remains for anyone who reads them now.
And what is the message in this note you ask? I’ll let you read it again and wonder on your own just like I do each time I look upwards to the sky above.