I love to read. Stories fascinate me. When words are juxtaposed just right within a narrative, they jump out at me and I get the “goosies!” I have spiral notebooks full of exquisite phrases and sentences gleaned from reading. These words are powerful. They make me stop and think, mull over a new idea, soak in a relatable epiphany, and absorb a fresh perspective on a familiar concept.
Each morning, I wake up in excruciating pain. I stumble to the tea kettle, turn it on, make myself a cup, and shuffle to my corner chair in the office nook where I sit with my back cushioned by a heating pad.
My father wasn’t the warm cuddly type. He didn’t play board games, not even scrabble! But as an athlete, he loved sports and interacted with us, especially my brother, in that arena. However, school, books, and homework were a definite guaranteed fulcrum around which we bonded.
We brought home a new collection of chicks this spring to replace our older hens who had quit laying. This new menagerie is a funny looking eclectic bunch with goofy personalities to match their now awkward looking teenage selves.
I took this picture over a month ago. On seeing the eagerness of these hatchlings to have their voices heard, and after sharing this picture with my sisters, one of them suggested this title and idea for today’s blog post.
From the time I was in second grade till I left home for University in the U.S., we lived in the same house on the Arab Baptist Theological Seminary (ABTS) campus. Perched on the foothills over-looking the Mediterranean Sea, ABTS was an ideal backdrop for childhood adventures, and I certainly had many!