When I was a small child, I wanted to be a writer. I would collect words like stones on a beach. Carefully curating their spelling and meaning, the shapes of the letters as they all connected, each a component in a magic spell. The right words could transport you to another world, another time. They were all magic. I wanted to learn that magic. Words could make understanding and connection. I listened to the words that were used around me, I listened to how poorly they communicated when misused. How unspoken, they were twisted and manipulated, sent through the filter of ignorance to become something else.
My mother would say that I did not speak like a child. That I always used bigger words than were necessary for a three-year-old. They were my first magic. I don’t remember learning how to read, or when I first made careful letters on a page. I do remember I loved the physical act of writing. I would practice. When I saw another person’s handwriting that I admired I would copy it, dissecting the way they held their instrument and making each shape. I might have had a career as a forger in another time. I write in a journal every day. Pages filled with my natural cursive. It is distinctive and beautiful and yet still changeable, with every mood and attitude reflected in it. In fact, I would rather be writing now instead of typing. But times and mediums change, and we must rise to new challenges or be forgotten in the murk. Although I still long to shape every letter with my hand.
I have wondered if I am good enough to write these words, if my insights are special enough to read? Foolish questions in the moment. Of course I am good enough. I exist here in this space as a sacred being with a mind and a voice. The words and thoughts flow out of me. My grammar is not perfect, but passable. I love commas.
You can hear me. This is my voice speaking to you from my desk. You understand me if my words are placed well enough. If the spell is cast, you will stay here long enough for me to be good enough, because you are good enough to read it.
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