Well, my writing class officially ended today! I am really kind of sad about it though. I really enjoyed the class and made some great friends over the past few weeks. Our class isn't entirely over.. we have a meeting in September, a retreat in October at the Cypress Inn and a mini Conference in November. So I will have that to look forward too! One of the things that I am going to miss the most is the wonderful writing time that we had everyday. I just hope I don't loose all of my creativity when school starts. School has a way of just sucking EVERYTHING out of you!
I have really enjoyed writing several fiction pieces over the past few weeks. For our final project (that is where I have been since Sunday, working on the final project!) we had to put together a portfolio or scrapbook with all of our writing that was bound together by a theme. My theme was "Throught the Looking Glass" Snippets of Julia's life. I included some poems, a fiction story about "When Zorro met Zoe...", and of course... my secret selves!!! As promised.. here is another one of my secret selves.. Antonia.
Antonia stands at her kitchen sink absent mindedly washing of the basil. As her rough hands move down the leaves, she momentarily loses herself in her thoughts. Italy. Cooking classes. Three whole weeks. Heaven. Antonia didn’t know how she was going to manage it, but she new in her soul that she had to try. She longed for an adventure that was hers.
Wiping her hands on her apron, Antonia worked quickly to chop the basil she was using in tonight’s pesto dish. Antonia prided herself on using fresh herbs and vegetables in her cooking whenever possible. Her grandmother often told her how fresh ingredients often improved any dish. How she missed her Nonna these days. She learned to cook from her, the lessons in Italian starting when Antonia was so small she had to stand on a stack of cookbooks to see her grandmother in action. Antonia was a lot like her Nonna. She had the same small hands and dark piercing eyes. She had long, dark, coarse curly hair. To manage it she often wore it in a single braid down her back. Antonia had one distinguishing feature that set her apart from her ancestors. She had a long grey widow’s peak that parted her hair straight down the middle. The widow’s peak appeared almost over night when she was 10. Incidentally, that was the same year that her cooking skills seemed to take on their magical quality. Antonia could vaguely remember the whispers about a family curse and her widow’s peak circulating when she was a child. She had already decided to check out this piece of family history when she got to Italy. Surely someone in the old village would know about it.
Antonia began to focus on her meal. Tonight she was cooking for 15. She loved the sound of family and friends around her dinner table. She loved the lively conversation and then the inevitable lull that fell into place when bellies became sated with her intoxicating food.
Last night we had a farewell party for our class at the beach. We had a wonderful supper and then a fantastic ceremony in which we all celebrated the authors we had become. We took a long walk on the beach, and I tell you, last night was the best sleep I have had in a LONG time. It's funny what a little ocean air will do for you!