This is the beginning of a story that I'm telling. A story of someone I have known for years. The story of my grandmother from what I imagined was a truly magical place...of course with a little imagination thrown in!
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The end of another week. Thursday is past, and it is the wee hours of Friday. I feel like I have been living here so much lately. Life here is quiet with few interruptions and no one to tell you how bad you were or how you might be a problem to their world.
I really love this time of the night because I feel a freedom from that culture I live in today. The one that only values money, beauty, or accomplishment. Many of us who live in the normal every day world find ourselves ignored, looked through as if we aren't even there, or ridiculed by both family members and the people those people that are our world.
Here in my office at night I can escape that world and create a small space just for me. This is where I dream and develop who I am, at least who I am on paper. It is here I develop my books, and here the dreams begin.
Some would probably say the dreams are either imaginary, or more visions than reality but I know they are visits from my past that can take me back to a time of real joy filled with the love of my Papa who always calls me back. Sitting here at the desk as I scrawl on my yellow pads I can smell the fires and all the smells of the circus that are like incense as I take them in and I can even almost touch the familiar things once more.
I can feel the wind of summer on my face and if I put my hands up to cover my eyes I know that world is there within the reach of my fingers - the fingers of that small girl in a world that seems to defy reality, and one that was totally mine. The world is my Papa's circus.
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