The moment I saw the bag, I knew something was up. Aunt Tonya (techinically my grandma’s aunt), tall, round and almost owl eyed with her full moon glasses, would always bring me things from her trips with uncle alan.
But this time, it was a huge, burlap sack. I poked the thing, feeling something shift under my fingers. Sand? Why’d she brought me a bag of sand? “It’s from a sapphire mine, up in montana” She told me, as she helped my scrawny arms get it onto the table. I could’ve made an emo smile, so extatic had I been. At 12, i had developed certain obsessions. Sapphires were one of them. As my birthstone, and posessing that lovely blue color, i’d become highly enoamoured with em. We got magnifying glasses, seives from my grandma’s cuboards, (some of which were never to recover) and began to sift. After about an hour, we had found... Nothing. Just a couple of good looking peices of gravel.
“Ummm... Ah dunno” I replied, trying to gnaw some gravel that had gotten out under my fingernail. I failed. “Didnt you wanna be a marine biologist?” she asked me. “That’s all you used to ever talk about.” “....Mmm... Not any more.” “Well what’s your newest calling” I rubbed the back of my head. “I kinda wanna write.” I said. “You know, like, stories! Dad says that i’m off in la la land though...” “Yeah well your father wants you to be able to suppourt yourself” She looked at a bluish rock. “Darn. Thought I had one.” She flicked back to serious mode. “But i’ve written a little myself. I know some authors too. And you know what they told me?” “What?” I asked.
“Never give it up.” She said. “You gotta write and write and write. Your fingers might drop off, but even then, have someone type the stories for you. You’ll get there.” “...You think so?” “Kiddo, it’s like anything you do” She replied, picking up a small, transparent blue stone. “You keep at it long enough... and you’ll eventually find that gem of an idea.”
I havent stopped writing, either. I’ve typed over a million words, i’d guess, easy. Problem being, i just keep restarting... but eventually, i’ll find it. That perfect story. That one blazing star among all the others. That little Gem of an Idea.
But this time, it was a huge, burlap sack. I poked the thing, feeling something shift under my fingers. Sand? Why’d she brought me a bag of sand? “It’s from a sapphire mine, up in montana” She told me, as she helped my scrawny arms get it onto the table. I could’ve made an emo smile, so extatic had I been. At 12, i had developed certain obsessions. Sapphires were one of them. As my birthstone, and posessing that lovely blue color, i’d become highly enoamoured with em. We got magnifying glasses, seives from my grandma’s cuboards, (some of which were never to recover) and began to sift. After about an hour, we had found... Nothing. Just a couple of good looking peices of gravel.
“Are we ever gonna find any?” I whined. Woopty doo for the effects of ADD everybody. “You gotta be patient, kiddo.” She’d replied, smiling that knowing smile of hers.
“There’s not many... but they’re there..” She looked at me for a little bit, eyes a bit cloudy.”So, carlos, whattya want to be?” The question was a bit out of left field... but then again, at the time, i had been the king of left field, pitching conversations topics that came so far out of the left they’d gone RIGHT. “Ummm... Ah dunno” I replied, trying to gnaw some gravel that had gotten out under my fingernail. I failed. “Didnt you wanna be a marine biologist?” she asked me. “That’s all you used to ever talk about.” “....Mmm... Not any more.” “Well what’s your newest calling” I rubbed the back of my head. “I kinda wanna write.” I said. “You know, like, stories! Dad says that i’m off in la la land though...” “Yeah well your father wants you to be able to suppourt yourself” She looked at a bluish rock. “Darn. Thought I had one.” She flicked back to serious mode. “But i’ve written a little myself. I know some authors too. And you know what they told me?” “What?” I asked.
“Never give it up.” She said. “You gotta write and write and write. Your fingers might drop off, but even then, have someone type the stories for you. You’ll get there.” “...You think so?” “Kiddo, it’s like anything you do” She replied, picking up a small, transparent blue stone. “You keep at it long enough... and you’ll eventually find that gem of an idea.”
I havent stopped writing, either. I’ve typed over a million words, i’d guess, easy. Problem being, i just keep restarting... but eventually, i’ll find it. That perfect story. That one blazing star among all the others. That little Gem of an Idea.
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