Friday, May 17, 2013

Five Minute Friday: Song


(From Lisa-Jo Baker's blog.  She's started a fun Friday thing I'd like to start doing, and it would be great if you would join in, too! Here's the scoop, in her words.) 
"Got five minutes? Let’s write. Let’s write in shades of real and brave and unscripted.
Let’s just write and not worry if it’s just right or not.
Because:
“Writing is an act of faith, not a trick of grammar.” ~E. B. White –>click to tweet this.
1. Write for 5 minutes flat for pure unedited love of the written word.
2. Link back here and invite others to join in.
3. Be generous and leave an encouraging comment for the person who linked up before you. That’s the best part about this community.
And if you don’t have a blog, feel free to leave your five minutes of writing as a comment. And we’ll love on you there.

Today's word: Song  (set your timer and.... GO!)
There was always a song in the air at my house when I was little.  My dad played classical, or The Irish Rovers or something from a musical on big vinyl records.  He would sing along, or whistle.  And often we would dance.  
There was music wafting through the air, mingling with the fragrance of his Irish breakfast.  The bacon frying alongside diced tomato.  Eggs on top of pancakes.  Funny things like that.  
I loved Monday mornings when I'd come home from school to his day off.  Dad in his white shorts with blue terry cloth trim.  I don't know why I remember those shorts.  
He played music in the car, and he'd drum on the steering wheel, and he whistled along. I loved to ride to school with him in the big white Oldsmobile with burgundy pillowy seats. I sat in the middle, even though no one needed the passenger seat. 
My dad is my sweetheart.  His accent is music.  He lost his speaking for a short time after a stroke, and his voice returning and his Irish lilt making a comeback is the most beautiful music my ears and my heart have heard.

We talked of Ireland, of going there one day, and maybe we will.  Maybe we won't. I don't know. Some things we plan don't happen.  But some of the things that already happened live on like songs in our hearts. My memories of him from childhood are swirling always inside my soul, like a melody.  Like song. 

(STOP)
Now it's YOUR turn, friend!  That was my maiden voyage to the Five Minute Friday prompt-land.... come along, won't you?  It's so fun and freeing to write with no editing, no second-guessing, no planning, for five minutes!  

Five Minute Friday

6 comments:

  1. You paint such a clear picture of your Dad. I feel like I can hear him somewhere in the distance. "His accent is music." Beautifully written!

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    1. Thank you for coming by and for your kind words. I enjoyed your post as well, especially that even though you had a busy day, you made time in bits and pieces to create something beautiful to share with us. It's nice to meet you!

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  2. What beautiful memories you share of your dad. I hope you do get to go to Ireland some day. Stopped over from the Five Minute Friday. Have a lovely weekend.

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    1. Thank you, Barbie. I appreciate you coming by to say hello! I enjoyed your post as well. It was like a sweet encouraging talk with a friend. Have a blessed weekend!

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  3. Shannon, I loved reading of all your beautiful memories of your dad. So touching. I'm glad you decided to join in on Five Minute Friday and grateful you made your way to my post. So nice to *meet* you. Thank you for liking my page too. Many blessings to you. Look forward to getting to know you through this wonderful blogging community.

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    1. Beth, thanks for coming over and taking time to read and leave such kind words! I am happy to meet you as well. I'm looking forward to growing in community with other women through blogging, and this has been a fun way to meet some creative, talented new women! I enjoyed your post as well. Your raw, real, honest words are so moving. I can connect to how you are so grateful to the Lord for what He's done in your life. He's everything. He is certainly the Song Giver! Enjoy your weekend!

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