My imagination has always been very lively. If I didn’t like a certain situation, I would change it as many times as I pleased in my mind.
When I was little, a question I heard too often was “what do you want to do when you grow up?” I never wanted to make to make a real decision. I didn’t accept the idea of picking just one job. As my friends (who lived in the neighborhood) played at the playground on the weekends, my parents encouraged my sisters and I to play in the hills. “There is your playground” they would say pointing towards the rocky hills.
My sister and I began making up stories while we played in the hills behind our house. We made up stories playing near the neatly stacked firewood next the silver tool shack. And when my sister grew older, I kept making up stories
alone to keep me occupied. With all the lives that I lived and the characters I created, It didn’t excite me, yet, that one day I’d pick one.
My imagination has always been very lively. If I didn’t like a certain situation, I would change it as many times as I pleased in my mind. The stresses of the world could easily be rewritten with a desirable outcome. A lot of my made up stories were very short and only lasted a minute or two in my mind. Other stories seemed so interesting I would sporadically think about it through out the day.
As I grew up, the journey of life took me in several directions as well. I went from a housekeeper working in Yellowstone National Park for five seasons, to an Usher at a popular theater, and finally to my current positions as an Early Childhood Educator in Albuquerque, New Mexico. My favorite teaching memory was when I taught a class full of preschoolers. I encouraged myself to bring excitement to our class from reading with voices to counting. I would do my best to make their learning experience come to life. If the classroom had to become a jungle, I would create one—and I loved it!
Each month the curriculum provided a theme and each morning the class and I would take a few minutes to read a story or discuss a topic. When The Great Outdoor theme graced us with its presence, my class full of “big city” children could describe a mall better than the simple scenery outside. Their experience with the outdoor world was very little to nonexistent which inspired me to write my first children’s book Away from the City.
Away from the City is about a leaf’s journey over an immaculate area of land. As much as I love and appreciate nature, the types of stories I make up are not limited to one genre. I enjoy writing poetry, and short stories. I have decided what I write on paper depends on my imagination in the spur of the moment. One of the greatest feelings in the world is being able to share a bit of imagination. There were and are so many moments, memories, daydreams, and experiences ample enough to compel me to feel inspired enough to write. Simple sentences of happiness, goals, to my deepest troubles remain bits of inspiration to the imagination.
My literary journey has just begun, and I hope my readers will enjoy my words as much as I enjoyed linking them together. My inspiration has come from different experiences, for example, one day during a hike, a friend and I enjoyed hours of conversation about different topics. We began talking about the trees which inspired me to write one of my favorite poems. I enjoyed writing about myself. I would like to end my short biography with a short poem.
The Love of Nature
The leaves fall so pretty and the sun feels so fresh.
A breeze passes through me as a coolness kisses my flesh.
Early flowers dance and they sway as dawn passes and turns to day.
Shadows travel over blades of grass
As the large clouds slowly twist and they pass.
Love birds sing for love as they share entangled wings up high above.
Eyes shut, tears fall freely as hands feel realness
tracing the grooves of the tree stumps stillness.
Show me love, show me nurture.
Nature is nurtured by nature itself.
Kindness is given while kindness is not returned.
And the trees, the tall, tall trees stand so wise.
But, they cannot teach us what we will not understand.
By Sasha Brown