I’m working with my Writing Workshop students on vignette, tiny little snapshots in words that express much more than what’s on the page. I gave them this gorgeous example (which I’ve been admiring since the day it was published), we talked about what vignette is and how it works, and then I asked them to write their own.
Since I’m fond of doing the assignments I give my students, I’m offering up the first draft of my vignette. I’ll happily take suggestions and comments.
“It’s a process,” they told me. “It’s going to take time, and no one can say how long it will take you, but when it happens, you’ll know.”
I got this advice a lot after my mother died; people trying to explain to me that this loss, this emptiness that I felt after she passed, would morph itself into something that I could better live with day after day. I accepted their advice for what I thought it was – the kind words of people who didn’t know what else to say.
Then it happened; I knew the day I thought of “her” things as “my” things was the day I finally came to terms with her dying.