In five words, write a story about this photograph.
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99 WORDS...AND A LITTLE BIT MORE
The familiar turn off welcomes me not far from where I want to be. Singing to old favourites coming through the airwaves, the anticipation of my destination bounces through me as I navigate the ruts and pot holes. Two more cattle guard crossings before I continue northwest on the road flanked with aspens and evergreens. I can see the place in my mind. I’ll be greeted by the fenced pasture. In the distance, the hills will dance with colour on their journey to the mountains. This road never fails me. I can count on it to take me home.
My homeland is about ten hours away by car, on the West side of the Rocky Mountains. The option to fly, when available, shortens the travel time by about eight hours. Travel is always weather and road dependent, even when it isn't winter. Needless to say, I am more likely to refer to the place I grew up as ‘where I am from’. It’s not home any more, although my roots sink deep into that part of the country, because it’s where I am from that continually guides me to where I go.
I consider my home to be on the East side of the Rockies. Probably because I have lived here for over four decades. That doesn’t take the way I feel, or how I do things, out of my life. I found new avenues to give me ways to remind me of my growing up years and the towns and people that molded me to who I am today. I can honestly say that going home does not have to be your homeland, or where you grew up. I have no regrets that I no longer call the place I grew up home. Yet, I recognize those places as being an important part of me, and they will always have a place in my heart and a vault full of memories.
Home, as they say, is where you hang your hat and your heart. What I now call home enables me to embrace the lifestyle in which I was raised. Not because it’s how I live, but because I can. I have met and been welcomed by people who I know are life-long friends. Doors are always open (I even have my own key to one or two) and the welcome mat is there to invite me in. When I hear the words, “Welcome home,” my heart sings because I know it to be so.
The photograph in this post is taken from one of those gravel roads that truly makes me feel like I am going home. It gives me a feeling of calm, euphoria, and love, along with a chastising word or two for not going more often.
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August 15, 2023, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about the journey home. Who is going home? Or are they in search of a future home or ancestral roots? Think of home as a life lived — adventures, relationships, accumulations. What makes home worth the journey? Go where the prompt leads!
1666.66666666… Words to write every day. What??? Why would anyone choose such a silly number? Well, here’s the reason . . .
In the beginning, which would be several +/- years ago, I heard about this thing called NaNoWriMo. More alphabet soup for sure, and back then, I was too shy to ask what it was. Fast forward, waaaay forward and National Novel Writing Month has become the much talked about month of November for writers around the globe.
Over the past few years, I had always been in the middle of a project, just finishing one, and of course, the ever-present I don’t have time to get into it always loomed out at me at the end of October when everyone else was priming themselves for NaNoWriMo.
This year, well, I had those same thoughts. I am working on another novel, but that is ongoing. I am waiting (not patiently) for the publishers to complete their part of The Quiet Spirits bargain. I’m busy doing stuff. Isn’t everyone? The tiny light that is deep within the gray matter kept flickering. Each time it came on, I could see myself participating in this event. The final push came from words I received from my editor when she finished reviewing The Quiet Spirits,
“What?!? Nooooo!!!! You can't end it there!”
Since I don’t normally do a formal outline and tend to write by the seat of my pants, I wasn’t sure how I would handle getting involved with NaNoWriMo. After all, the whole idea is to write 50,000 (or more) words during the month of November so you would think there has to be some preliminary planning, right?
In truth, The Quiet Spirits had set almost everything up for me. Characters, location, intrigue, a jump in point, and of course, the thought that I have a good idea how the story might end (or not). Why not start the sequel to The Quiet Spirits? Why not indeed!
Follow my progress on Facebook for weekly updates to see how I am doing.
Author, Photographer, Lover of Life
"Capturing moments others may never get to experience."
Image courtesy of National Novel Writing Month.
Ann Edall-Robson is an author and award-winning photographer
Airdrie Public Library
Animals Teach Lessons
Ann Edall Robson Photography
Barn Cat Buttons Series
Birds In My Canadian Backyard
Capturing Moments Others May Never Get To Experience.
CarrotRanch Flash Fiction Challenge
Fine Art America
From Our Home To Yours
New Born Calves
Quiet Spirits Column
Remington Portable Typewriter
Sharing The Moment
The Quiet Spirits
Thoughts On Life
Warm Spring Rain
Where Memories Are Made