Hello friends,
It’s Day 2 of a nine-day writing practice. Today my writing prompt is Frost!
It was the early 1960’s, and I was just three or four years old. I still remember the agony so vividly—French braids, both my curse and my motivator. My mother’s quest for perfectly braided hair felt relentless, each tug and twist testing my patience. Yet, the promise of sitting in my favorite chair afterward made it all worthwhile, a small but cherished reward that helped me endure.
Let me tell you about my favorite chair and why it mattered so much. It sat in front of the living room picture window—a fishbowl to the world outside and a canvas for frost on cold winter mornings. Its shape was a perfect half-circle, upholstered in red with a hint of black—a texture that felt like tweed. The chair could swivel, gliding smoothly to the right and back to the left. It was in that chair that I found stillness, gazing out at the world beyond and letting my dreams take shape.
I have just one photo of my prized chair. This photo tells the tale of me as a baby, joyfully sitting on my mom’s lap, my red chair patiently waiting for me in the corner.
I spent countless hours in my red chair, watching the world pass by and daydreaming about experiences that made me happy—moments that, I now realize, quietly shaped my dreams.
Creativity was cemented early as I made mud pies on the concrete retaining wall in front of our home—a space that became my creative haven. Discarded cake pans, weathered bowls with peeling plastic, and spoons with bent handles were my trusted tools, turning simple mud and water into imaginative masterpieces.
Connection was planted—as children we watched the seeds sprout and grow. Our mothers modeled the importance of maintaining connections, teaching us the value of friendship. Hours upon hours of endless play with friends—often as our moms spent time together chatting with a bottomless cup of coffee in hand. If they couldn’t meet in person, the phone lines were buzzing as stories of the day were traded—like valued hockey cards and problems, not meant to sit in isolation, were solved together.
So let me bring this story back to frost. Just as frost grows slowly, with intricate patterns that form one crystal at a time, dreams often start with small steps or fragments that gradually piece together into something beautiful.
My dreams took flight in my red chair as I dreamt about my own joyful experiences and those I witnessed from older generations around me. As I look out my window this morning, the frost has disappeared and my vision is clearer now. Born out of stillness, intertwined with creativity and connection, I soon will offer my light to others as my dreams begin to manifest.
Can’t wait to share my dreams with all of you!
That was quite a significant chair. At Christmas Trevor and I would each get a mandarin orange to peel and enjoy, section by section. We would sit in the chair in front of an old wooden radio and listen to a Christmas show. That was before we had a tv obviously, lol.
What a beautiful memory you shared with us, Kathy!