Why Do I Write?

I write to satisfy a need within me. I must write. Into my journal, I penned the following words in 1982.
I wish I could put my bare feet into a stream of water and be a child again.
I wish I could feel the sun warm upon my back as I walk barefoot down a dusty road in summer.
I wish I could touch the velvety soft moss that grows in the woods, and hear again the crackle of dry leaves under my feet.  Heaven is here on Earth in the forests.  Nature is the pure, clean, sparkling beauty that God gave us to enjoy.
I wish I could hear the whippoorwill across the hollow on a still, warm night, and the mockingbird that perched on the roof of the house, singing sweetly when I returned home from a date.
My happy teenage world was filled with love in my heart for God, the nature He gave, and the people who love me.
I wish I could see again the tall, thick yard grass in the spring at Banner Mountain.

c copyright,  Freeda Baker Nichols

8 comments on “Why Do I Write?

  1. Ha ha, Inger. Normally I would have trouble finding things I wrote in 1982, but that one happens to be secure in a hard bound journal in a file cabinet. Easy to get my hands on. Only wish I had written down much more than what I did.


  2. As the first commenter said, it does sound like it could have been written yesterday!

    Of course I’m also impressed that you could find something you wrote in 1982!


  3. That is beautiful, Freeda! We write to be young again.


  4. This is why you are such a good writer, as one reads what you have written, it takes the person who is reading it right along with you as you share your memories.


  5. Pitty Patter.blogspot.com/ pittypatter.blogspot.com says:

    Thirty years ago–and it sounds like it could have been written yesterday. Way to go.


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