My Fingers Rest on the Keys .........
A Thank You to Fellow Hubbers....
My oversized fingers sweep across the keys as my mind sweeps the dust of emotional memories from the floor of my life. This , no dought, is a common practice for writers , and , am I not a writer , if in fact , I do write? And , just as you all do , am I not just reaching for a hand to grasp onto , a way to connect with those outside of me . An emotion within you all to touch , or even a heart to caress or to take into my own hands and mold into a certain reaction . So why do we write ? For money , for recognition or to express our hearts and our minds .
I often find myself , as many do I'm sure , unable to convey the amount of unspent emotions within , so many times as I begin down a road trip of the mind , of the heart or just in a light mood wanting to just share that with others. I find what I end up with to be something less than perfect . All the usual questions arise , am I using too many words , is the message to garbled or two sappy. How will it be received , will they like it ?
Sometimes as I write , I recall the events in my life , from my childhood of something less than perfect ....or from the life of my Father or of our families past . Sometimes I write about the places I've traveled , most of my travels have been for the enjoyment of nature and all it's holdings here in America . I have dozens and dozens of photos packed away from these travels , I thought once I would frame them and hang them on a wall. But I seemed to have found this new thing called the Hub Pages , And in the last ten years to have found a way to express things never before expressed.
Now as this found energy of this hub thing takes ahold of my hands , of my memories and of the photos that sat in boxes , some for years , I begin to experience a new found sense of connections with people , and I have begun to think that this will actually save me . Yes , save me , I was for a long time disconnected from family , from friends and from living actually ! Somehow though this thing called writing has grabbed onto something inside
, it has shaken lose a lot of old dusty memories and experiences tucked far away in some box inside the mysteries of the human mind and soul.
When I began to think , last year , of what I would actually do with a box full of random poetry , of stories about people and real life experiences of my life. I began looking for a place on the computer to perhaps send a few poems and wait patiently for the rejection notice , but what I found instead ! ....Hub Pages .......And the graciousness of what now are fellow hubbers. All too many great people to list here , from the first comments to the very last one , I am truly a greatful man. And , to all hubbers , Thank You for sharing with me.