Three Little Words 

By John W. Vander Velden

A box clumsily wrapped with wrinkled paper.  The bow had fallen off.  It seemed so out of place among the many brightly wrapped packages.  But on Christmas day when the gifts were opened it was found to contain a few pieces of red and green construction paper glued together in what might seem a haphazard thoughtless manner.  Written with glue and glitter, on this conglomerate of cut bits and pieces, were only three little words…I love you…

As time passed and the other gifts, the ones in perfectly wrapped fancy packages, had been lost, broken, or stored away in some forgotten corner of a closet or attic.  That piece of glued scraps of red and green…that piece of paper with those three little words was stored in a box with other treasures.  No, that box did not contain gold or precious gems.  It was not a box filled with stock certificates or bonds.  Yet it contained the things most valuable, the most priceless things in that home.  A baby’s first picture…a lock of golden hair…a small tooth…and some read and green paper with three little words!

Universe

Universe

By John W. Vander Velden

When writing, time force fitted among many demands, torn from spare moments…too few…too short.  Examining the space…the volume I exploit in that pursuit…I wonder.  For somewhere  between patiently listening to an over stressed wife, keeping a watchful eye on a teenage son and dealing with works demands…there lies this writer’s universe.  Evenings…escape to a cluttered space…my desktop in a small room, elevator music through headphones aid in the isolation.  Other times I use other places, finding seclusion in our almost finished basement, especially during warmer seasons.  Another computer waits for me there…a comfortable though older machine…in a place often cold, for choosing this machine requires a coat in winter.  But if the cat leaves me alone the area can be quite effective and at times my first choice.

Then there are all the other places…other times.  Times when room for my laptop, my only need.  When chauffeuring my son I receive odd glances as I work… bowling alley perhaps or other places his activities have taken me.  Times I find myself at a desk in an empty church…where ever…when ever…

It is not the location…or a specific location that seems to matter.  For when I need to write I use tools at hand…note paper and pen…or keyboard….it matters not.  Those times I leave this world, move into another.  A universe gifted to me.  Words on a screen or letters on paper all I see.  My mind races forward…plot… character… scene…but mostly emotion.  It is the story that controls. The story that comes out of the air it seems. The story alive and all around.  I am part of something much larger, and when I truly find myself there…swallowed by the words…my clumsy fingers fly far too slowly. I am unreachable in my universe…and I might seem alone…but am not!

But if you question…if you must know what is the most important “space” this writer employs?  Then I will simply remind that it all hinges upon a relatively inconsequential volume, best described as the part I cover with my stocking hat when the snow flies… ‘nough said!!!

(404 Words)