(23 of 40) Writing about What Bugs You

During our class Monday night, I mentioned that when my twins were little I discovered that if I spent sometime writing about them -- not complaining about them, mind you -- I felt better. I still remember writing a list sentence (an imitation exercise) describing them. I'm at the library, so I don't have access to the original, but it went something like this: 

My five-year old daughters--noisy, unruly, uncombed as wild ponies and as exuberant--rush into the kitchen, grab at my legs, grab at each other, roll on the floor giggling, jab and punch and wrestle.

My girls have grown up. At 18, they present me with a completely different set of challenges (and, having survived their preschool years, there's really nothing they do now that I'm not equal to). What bugs me now is my day-job, teaching at the college. So, instead of whining in my journal this morning, I thought, What if I were to write about my students? And then I did, not complaining, but describing, making a story out of it. I have this tickling sensation that I have embarked on an entirely new project.

The picture, by the way, is of Emma, not of her big sisters. Her jar with the bugs in it just seemed too perfect, given my title. (I believe we set the bugs free after we snapped the picture.)