Archive – 2023/22 Hannah Marie. Short Stories🖊️

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Mixing Ideas

Photo by Goh Rhy Yan on Unsplash

“No! For the last time I absolutely will not donate the ottoman!” Cade slams the door in the face of his neighbor, who had been hounding him for weeks to donate to “the best charity on the block”. He’d already sent four bags right after Christmas. He needed something new, something that stirred him out of this after-holiday funk. Commotion outside drove him to open his door again and he peered outside. Nobody on the porch. No sound in the street. But a shadow in his peripheral made him spin around. It was one of those silver drones, which seemed too big to be flying around where kids were playing. It whizzed past his head, barely missing him. He ducked, but by the time “Hey!” could come out of his mouth, it had changed direction and disappeared. He couldn’t find anyone, even though he walked out to the street and peeked down the alley. A small box KER-PLUNKED onto his perfect grass. There was no need for a front yard anymore, but he still liked to keep it immaculate. He tried to open it, but there didn’t appear to be a lid. There was something written on the bottom, a string of numbers. “Two, Two, Three, Dash, Six, Four, Six, Three,” he read out loud. Someone must have meant to pass this to their friend and couldn’t learn a simple instrument like a drone. He typed in the numbers to his phone, trying to see if they were connected to something familiar. It might be a phone number. But no luck. Maybe a code? He tried putting in letters in place of each, starting with B as 2. BBC-FDFC. Nope. He picked up the box and looked at each corner and all the edges. Definitely no opening, but there did seem to be letters here, scrawled in a light pencil, like someone tried to erase it. “Song” was the word, if he read it correctly. Just then, the phone rang.

“Hello?” When he answered his mobile, nobody was on the other end. Must be a telemarketer. They called at least five times a day. He balanced the little box on one finger. It looked like it was made of cardboard, but it felt slightly heavier and whatever was inside didn’t shake very much when he flipped the box upside-down and right side up. He typed the numbers into his phone again, then notices his keypad. They had letters on them. He grabbed a pad with his grocery list scrawled on it and turned it to the blank side. He wrote starting from the top on the left side, with spaces between. It just looked like a bunch of numbers, with no discernible pattern:

Then he read out loud, “Three dash six. Could this be three sixes?” Sounds ominous. He circled the last line, having only written out to the sixth digit since the message only covered those. Then he crossed out the one, since it didn’t have anything. ABG-GMD was the original. He tested his theory using three sixes instead of three, then the six, putting in the first letter next to each number to start with, continuing the pattern for the repeated numbers. ABMNMGHD

Ring! went the phone again, and he picked up again, not even bothering to say hello when he heard the dial tone. He immediately went back to his modern-day crossword puzzle. Or was it Sudoku? Then he wanted to see what it looked like with the last letter inserted: CAONOIMF. Cade copied that into search, with the word “song.” Ring! This time he didn’t even bother answering it. Sure enough, there was only one ring before the person hung up. Probably the machine. The constant ringing in his ears gave him an idea. Song. He added “song” to the search and was corrected to “canoe song”. With a sigh, he turned back to the mystery letters. What if he split them? AB MN OG D Or possibly from the other direction… CB ON MI F. Nothing helpful except some popular artists and a kid’s song.

Ring! Again with the interruptions! He picks up the phone. “Make it fast.” He wasn’t in the mood.

“Hey, man. It’s me.” His sister’s fiancé was chipper. “Did you get it?”

“What, Jeff? You mean the drone was your idea?”

“Well, yes and no, I let Grant take the controls, but I think he almost made it to you. At least I hope so. There wasn’t anything attached to it when–“

“Let me get this straight. You nearly knocked me out because you couldn’t walk over to my house and left me the mysterious box that I can’t open with that mysterious message.”

“Message? What are you talking about?”

“Those numbers. And the word on the side?”

“There was nothing on the box when I sent it to you.”

“Are you sure?” The line clicks. “Hello? Jeff? Are you there?” Nothing. He hangs up and turns to the box that wasn’t supposed to have numbers on it. Ring!

“First of all,” Jeff’s voice rattled off on the other end before Cade could say anything, “That was Grant’s version of a hint. Also, didn’t you get my hang ups?”

“Huh? That was you? Why?”

“I’ll give you a hint. Pachelbel. And you squeeze the diagonal corners. See you tomorrow night!”

Cade picked up the box, his thumb on the bottom right side and index on the top left and pinched them together. The seam split. “Oh!”

Note from the author: Did you figure it out? This was a silly story in response to a challenge that was posted on VM at the end of November, called The Mystery Box. I must have forgotten to refresh my feed and thought it was due today! If you didn’t figure out my code on this one, I’ll tell you the same thing I told myself (after I finished writing the story): Better luck next time! – HM.

December 2023

I might not become famous, but I would like to start selling my novels, even if it’s just one every couple years! I put my thoughts, dreams, and imagination into these five or so manuscripts, and I know that there is some other visionary out there who can learn just as much from my writings and take my ideas even farther. Yes, I realize I write (mostly) fiction, but the imagination can be inspiration as well, and teach people of all ages to dream their hearts out!

Hannah Marie.

The above is me quoting myself, from “New Beginnings”! I have started a blog, simply named Hannah Marie., based on explaining how I write and stories behind some of my writing inspirations. I am not ready to publish books quite yet, but one manuscript is on the verge of seeing the editing timeline. I would like to keep this Vocal Media area for my short stories and other creative musings, but in the future I might merge them all onto this platform. I am still seeing what works best to attract people to my writing and I really like the ease of VM to put my blogging together.

Some of the ideas for my new venture are still in the works, but I tend to jump in and then learn to swim. I am excited about the format and hope to continue melding my personal art with my writing, as I have previously done here. Much of the work in my blog will be tips and information that I discover while researching my books, or lessons that I learn from other authors and resources. 

I am still planning on using this blog to share new stories and ideas that are still developing. I have lots, especially coming up in January! I will attempt the twenty-four hour story challenge that I worked on a couple years ago, that is literally writing for twenty-four hours with few breaks in between. It is a scheduled day of continued writing, sort of like a condensed version of NaNoWriMo. The goal is to push my creativity to the limit and see what emerges! A couple years ago I attempted short stories in January. I think my goal was ten or twelve short stories and at the end of the day I thought I might have just written a lot of trash. But after a few weeks of refining, updating, and adding illustrations, I was able to publish several here on this blog. 

Also in January I will dive into another month of attempting to write 50,000 more words on my November novel, getting me closer to my goal of another first draft manuscript. I often back off of social media during these intense times, but will probably have a few posts scheduled for Instagram [@hannah_marie._artwork]. 

Writing is something that motivates me and keeps me trying to view things from other perspectives. I hope in the long run it can teach me to be more compassionate and empathetic, making me a better writer and friend. As many authors will attest, the best way to improve writing is by WRITING! I am learning the hard way that sometimes the writing process is not anything fancy or magical. It is simply sitting down in my chair (or with my recorder) and writing! Getting the words down is better than having a blank page. Scribbling bad writing is better than allowing good ideas to float away because I didn’t take time to do what was necessary. 

So I am CHOOSING to make time for writing. More about this goal during the upcoming year, but for now, it includes a determination to stay focused on small goals. As I tell myself with teaching: One class at a time. One day at a time. One week at a time. Same with writing. Most of the time I can’t predict how the day will go. I just need to be prepared and then be flexible. Pretty soon, before I know it, another year has ended and new things are on the horizon! I don’t know what will happen, so may as well enjoy the ride!

Breaking Away.

One morning at the beginning of November, I was scrolling for ten minutes on my Instagram account. I decided that it was sucking away my time and I wanted to give up social media for a while. There were books piling up next to my bed and with NaNoWriMo in full swing and my full time job, I was constantly trying to find enough time to do everything that I want to do. That does not include the things that I need to do for my self care. 

I was chatting on the phone with my mom a few weeks ago and realized that I was not spending enough time daily exercising or even drinking enough water. A simple concept, but it is something that I need to focus on because my body was telling me that I needed to change something or I would be miserable. 

I sent a post to my accounts explaining that I was taking a break for a while. I thought about putting an explanation, like I needed more time for myself, or I needed to waste less time scrolling endlessly on my tiny computer in my pocket, but in the end, I just said that I was taking a break and left it at that. As a reminder to myself, I deleted the app from my home screen to avoid the habit of opening it after work or early in the morning. 

Some of the things I did in the first week away from social media: 

– listening to music

– practicing languages

– playing with my cats

– sitting and breathing

During the second week I got a cold, one that I hadn’t quite chased away in this first year back to education. So during this week, there was an increased NOT doing, as my body was telling me I needed more rest. I did continue yoga, drinking more tea, and breathing consciously. 

In the classroom I am acutely aware that my students are going through things outside of class, physically as well as mentally, and that they need as many hugs as they do lessons. I continue to teach art, mainly with a mask, but try to focus on the enthusiasm of learning and growing. So many of these kids expect perfection, even when they haven’t tried a technique, and it is something that I am constantly reminding them. We “turn our mistakes into masterpieces.”

For week 2, more: 

*Writing – Still chasing my 50,000 word goal!

*Reading

*People-watching

*Exploring the great outdoors

*Sitting and thinking

*Sleeping

There have definitely been moments when I look for the apps that aren’t available on my homescreen any more. But I don’t miss the time I usually spend in searching through them. I am not even sure if all my friends realize I haven’t posted. Everyone has their own lives that they are involved in, especially around this time of year, and they have other distractions that take up time. Priorities are hard to manage, but learning how not to build the priority pyramid lopsided is worth it!

I am trying to restart my self-care routine, which includes writing, drawing, reading, and exercising consistently. This is hard to make my body do, though in the end, even accomplishing two of these daily is rewarding. I feel better and my mind is clearer. 

UPDATE (December 2022): Since then, I have returned to social media and reached my NaNoWriMo challenge goal, barely surpassing my 50,000 words. I will break for another couple of weeks while I finish editing a book I’ve been working on for several years. I can’t share much about this one except that it is contemporary fiction and includes themes of family, growing up, addictions, and hope. My goal for December is to compile it in the order that I want to send it off to a copywriting editor, which means someone else will check the “flow” of the story and send me back lots of marked-up pages for corrections. Once this has occurred, I would like to send it to another line editor to check grammar and sentence construction. Following these edits I will send out query letters to publishing companies to see if my book can be picked up by a publishing company. I’ve done this before and it is a long process with no guaranteed success. However, the first drafts of manuscripts still hidden in my computer beg me to start: One full-length novel published. Then another. And another…

Dreams and Destinations.

Changes happen in life. I just didn’t know one of my dreams would come to an end by my forgetting the second half of my sonatina at a piano recital in front of my peers! I was around fourteen years old, and we were grouped by proficiency level to individually play piano in front of a judge. This contest was one of the two, annual, semi-competitive elements of our piano-playing lives, called a Sonatina contest. The musical piece was something everyone practiced for months, memorizing and attending a designated “judgement day” that lasted a couple hours out of a Saturday. Most of the time, this took place at a local university and the halls would be buzzing with nerves and excitement as a bunch of little piano players found their area and waited expectantly to play. This particular Saturday I was one of a handful of performers who chose to play the movement. It was a quick, fun piece and I enjoyed playing it. 

I won! 

I was extremely excited to have made it to the Recital Hall, where every first-place winner, and occasionally the second, played their winning pieces the next day. The first time I stepped onto the stage with the grand piano I was in awe of the size of that instrument! It was a quality grand piano, easily three times bigger than the piano I played on at home. 

This annual recital was a big deal. All students were required to dress up and come very early to be seated in order. I was excited to see my piano teacher enter right before it started. The piece that we had prepared was memorized, but I consciously practiced my fingerings and tempo while waiting for my turn. As I began my first few lines, I was surprised by the clarity of the sound. I loved how the melody echoed off the walls in the large university music hall. Then, right before the movement picked up pace—a part that I had played easily a hundred times at my house—the melody vanished. I couldn’t remember what measure to play. I paused, backed up a few memorized lines, and tried again. I still couldn’t remember what came next. I slowed down and resumed the melody a third time, but still got stuck on the same part. Standing at my place next to the bench, I bowed toward the audience like I had been taught and made my way back to my seat. My face flushed, mainly because my piano teacher had been watching me. 

This was not the only time I’ve ever frozen under pressure, but it was probably one of the first major ones. I have failed many times in front of people in subsequent years and have learned that while it can definitely be embarrassing, it doesn’t have to be humiliating. I am not perfect and even mistakes often show me that I attempted something new or different. Without the action of trying I would never have gained the experience! 

Currently, I don’t play the piano with the same regularity that I used to. I can still hear my dad whistling along to the tunes that I practiced weekly. This piano lesson is one that I haven’t forgotten, but it isn’t as painful as it once was. It will always be the same with something unusual or new that I want to try. I might attempt it once and then want to go back, thinking that it’s going to be the same at that piano experience or that I’ll fall flat on my face. But it isn’t the same. Every experience builds on the previous experiences. However, the hard truth is, sometimes I don’t get to go back and fix things. Sometimes I just have to see what I’ve learned from previous adventures. 

***By the way, when I got home from that recital a couple hours later I played the entire song perfectly, just like I practiced. I returned the following year as a second-place winner after the first-place winner, a neighbor of mine, had a time conflict. This time, I didn’t focus so much on the beauty of my surroundings, but instead I worked on getting my notes just at the right pitch and emotion for the piece. It was just as I had practiced! I didn’t cease looking for beauty around me. In fact, I still find beauty in the piano. I bought my very own about ten years later and don’t practice nearly as much as I should! I also find beauty in other creative endeavors like art, writing, or going for a run. 

That experience with the piano might have sobered me a little, but it did not diminish my excitement to try difficult things and to enjoy beauty around me. I am becoming more and more okay with making mistakes, partially because of entering my new escapade of teaching! Learning is a constant companion!

November 2022

Art as a Lifestyle.

This week has been one of the hardest and the most rewarding of my teaching life! I’ve had kids screaming and crying, as one would since I teach grades kindergarten through sixth* grade in my classroom every day. However, I’ve also had kids (miraculously!) learning to listen this week, sharing politely with each other, and expressing themselves more through their art in ways that I haven’t seen up to this point. As a teacher, that is what I like to see! I want to find kids who are using their words and their actions in a kind manner. I always challenge them to get out of their box whenever they are attempting artistry in my class. but as an art teacher it especially makes me proud that these kids are making an extra effort to try things that don’t come naturally to them. That takes true courage and I’ve definitely seen that come out in conversations and finished projects. Every day is another moment to learn. 

For some classes learning includes using a regular-level voice when asking for class material. Another group is learning to share with each other and use polite words rather than grab things and scream for attention. I saw a kindergartner yesterday draw a recognizable bird sitting on a branch when three months ago this same child gave me a paper of scribbles to hang on the wall. As a side note, I love the scribble papers because they are usually super important to the five-year-olds (“This circle is my swing, this line is my house, and those three circles are me, my brother and Papaw!”). At the same time, I’m extremely excited to see how far each child has come as they begin to claim their art as their own. 

I’m already mulling over how I can incorporate some of these older kids’ artworks into future lessons because they have come such a long way in just a few months. They are being vulnerable, even if they don’t know yet what that is; they are expressing themselves in ways that they have not previously. Several students and parents are telling me that art is their favorite subject. As an art teacher, I want to tell them “Of course it is!” But really, I hope it means something to them in the long run, even when I’m not teaching them anymore. That is what I really want to see: Their art—whatever fun they find in art—is expressed in a way that is personal to THEM. Most of all though, I want to see them continue to use this in their life in whatever way they choose. Some kids after this class may never draw (or study Spanish*) again, but they might dance, they might design buildings, or they might travel to another country. All of these are forms of art that they can take with them throughout their lives. That is why I am embracing the #artteacherlife this semester! I know that next year things might look a little different, but these kids definitely have a hunger to express themselves and to just have fun with new techniques and art history, while learning to communicate with each other and within themselves. In the long run, this is what is going to stick with kids as they grow into the awesome humans they are becoming. If I can nurture that in any way, even if a little haphazardly, I am definitely up for the challenge!

Always learning,

Hannah Marie. 

*Note: I also teach Spanish for sixth grade three times a week, but that will have to be another conversation for another time!

October 2022

November Vibes. 🍁

Making Room.

As part of my upcoming NaNoWriMo challenge, I decided to make my apartment a little bit more cozy. I have given away a lot of things over the past several of months because I moved into a smaller apartment. However, getting rid of things doesn’t seem so bad in the light that more that I have around me now are things that I appreciate rather than getting lost in a pile (it happens a lot!). My biggest purchase recently was to get a new writing desk, which also doubles as my artist easel, as there is a contraption on the front that allows the desk to lean forward for a convenient artist area! I am also welcoming in winter by hanging up three paintings which invite the woods into my house, reminiscent of the hiking experience I had this summer. I did not paint these, but they have been waiting in my closet for over a year and are finally seeing the light. 

As part of the excitement of prepping for writing this November, I am posting a new Instagram story every day detailing some of my writing processes. I’m trying to keep this as authentic as possible, not staging much and using only what I am determined to use during this November writing month. One of the hardest pictures to take was probably my selfie on day two, because I always think that I need to look more authoritative, like a “real” author. To combat this doubt, I snapped the picture without allowing myself to take a second one. I have outlined a little bit of my new story for NaNo, but even as I add some detail for my main points, I realize that the story in my head is already melding into something else. This is the advantage and disadvantage of being a Pantser as I write, which means I don’t plan as much as I probably should. This time I am keeping it deliberate, writing solely for the love of writing and not to achieve something. I’m just going to enjoy the ride. It is still something I want to do in my life. 

Some of the change in my new outline comes from mulling over stories that I’ve written before and wanting to try something completely different. The rest comes partially from the (intended) characters’ personalities. As is so constantly stated by some authors, sometimes the characters just want to do what they want to do. We’ll see where this takes me! 

Plans.

I will be writing a young adult crossover mystery, which means that the book can be for young adults, but it’s also geared toward adults as well. I do want to focus the setting on somewhere in the eastern United States, possibly Virginia, but develop my own town. I’m hoping to either create a new language or a New World within the structure of earth. This means that the book actually might end up becoming a fantasy, but as many of my other manuscripts have turned out, I want it to include an element of realistic human drama as well. I’ve started reading books by authors that I think are writing similarly to how I want my novel to end up and I’m studying a few books that I’ve already read. I am combining all major elements into a spreadsheet that I use to compare similarities and differences among authors. 

In the Future.

One of the challenges that I face this November is that I am teaching full-time, which leaves me with very little energy in the evenings. I might be able to get some of my word count completed in the morning, but I also hope to sketch out a few of my ideas—literally—to better develop the story in the long run. I’ve already started drawing out a layout of how each character can be involved with another, but as I’ve said previously, I am not sure where the story will take me yet. That is half the fun of just having the goal of writing as many words as I can in thirty days starting November 1. Also in the future, I hope to include some of my students in the writing process, as there is a young writer’s version of NaNoWriMo. However, the idea came to me too late in October to put this into motion and align it with all of their homeroom teachers, so it is something that I might look into next year. It will be interesting to see what comes out of the next few weeks, and hopefully more pictures and Pinterest boards will stir up my imagination!

September 2022

Lessons from our Elders.

Jumping into Things

A couple years out of college, when I was just starting out putting my education into practice, I was teaching in an area that had many Spanish speakers. During college I had received a minor in Spanish but honestly, I was still rusty when it came to things outside of everyday conversations. Over the summer I chose to travel to a Guatemalan language school to immerse myself in Spanish. 

I took around six hours of language classes a day with volunteering thrown in for some interactive practice. The very first time I was set to volunteer with my group, I was both nervous and excited, ready to get out into the community but not really sure what to expect. My assignment: To enter an assisted living home to be an extra set of hands. The first couple of days with the elderly were really rough because I couldn’t think of the sentences that I had practiced. Even trying to use some phrases that I had recently learned was a flop because the people didn’t seem to understand me.

The Area

The section used for housing the elderly was in something that looked like a converted church and, if I recall correctly, was being used for services on the weekend. There were long hallways and tall, stone arches with workers perched on scaffolding to update certain areas of the building. It was run down, but upkeep was still a priority. 

The workers at the home often had multiple jobs, including cleaning, working with volunteers, kitchen duty, and nursing. During my volunteering day I was assigned linen duty and also followed a couple elderly folks to usher them to their activities. Since this was an immersion experience, I followed a head woman who did not know English, so I had to pay careful attention as she explained the directions and areas where I would be working. Much of the instructions were self-explanatory and I could follow through miming her actions, but when it came to specifics, I had to figure it out. 

Some Hard Truths

A couple of the older ladies spoke better English than I did Spanish and just laughed at me because I admitted I didn’t speak Spanish well. One old lady who needed a lot of help shook her head throughout the day and stated, “You don’t speak Spanish well. You don’t know Spanish. No, you don’t speak well.” I was discouraged and frustrated that I couldn’t get through to her. 

Finally, at the very end of the week, I was in charge of feeding her dinner, which was a mash of some thing yellow with potatoes and other vegetables, along with some soft meats. I tried to think of random things to talk about in Spanish, similar to what I do in English, and this time it actually worked. She said that I had picked up on some Spanish, and that I just need to keep practicing. I learned from another helper that she tends to be a pessimistic sort for whom the world is half empty because of losses she had suffered. She told me that day that she had lost a couple people close to her and had been alone for many years before coming to the community home.

And Now…

I continue to explore new countries and always jump at any opportunity to use my Spanish! I am currently studying to take a test in Spanish that might open up more opportunities to use for teaching experiences in the future. Working with the small community in Guatemala was one of the most difficult moments, but it taught me to keep going and to try my best. Of course I might not always get it right! But sticking to something is better than admitting defeat. It doesn’t have to sound perfect the first time, but the doors that are opened with learning languages are worth much more than a few days of being uncomfortable. The answers for anything new are not always going to come easily, but there are so many times when the hard work is worth the effort. There’s always room for more learning!

Jumping into the Unknown.

You know the first scene in the movie La La Land? There is an entire freeway of backed up traffic with lots of horn honking, gradually developing a rhythm that leads into the first introductory song of the picture. The cars are full of dreamers, each with their own idea of their goal for coming to Los Angeles. These dreamers are, both literally and metaphorically, waiting in line for their big shot. I felt like that today, as I finally made my way into San Antonio to meet a friend for brunch. I am in a place where this is a new world and I am learning new routines, new job, new people, new community, new church. It is something that is a little bit unsettling at times, but is mostly exciting. Even though I don’t quite know what I’m doing yet, I think I can eventually find my niche. 

“Newness” All Around.

There are many things that I am getting used to here, even as far as finding new restauraunts, coffee shops, and–of course!–bookstores. I just found a “new” used bookstore only about a five minute drive from my house, so I think I will be very occupied on future Saturday outings. As the school year continues, I am doing my best to spend the weekend just relaxing, writing, and drawing, as I think this will make me a better teacher during the week. I have sufficient time during my planning periods to prepare for future lessons, though I definitely still have the teacher brain that is hard to turn off. During the evenings I have become very good at jotting down ideas and future research opportunities because I don’t want to spend hours working on classwork. The hard thing with this is that I equally don’t want to forget my grand idea. I usually send myself an email to check the following morning… 

Pushing, not Pushy.

I found out solid moments this week where I overreached on what students are currently able to accomplish, but I try not to let this discourage me. That won’t do any good, for myself or my students. Sometimes my vision works and sometimes it doesn’t, but even if I overstretch what my students are capable of doing, I know eventually, we will figure out together what we need to do to get the learning completed! 

Along the lines of learning, I discovered the *awesome!* library that we have in my little town and I have dropped by a couple times, both to browse for myself and to use the colored printer. A lot of the art that the students work on should be completed by them, in my opinion, but I also want to find ways to inspire them, such as giving them good examples of famous artists’ works. 

So far (at this time of writing) we have covered Mary Cassatt and M.C. Escher. Then next week we will look at Wilson Homer’s seascapes and touch on still life painting with fruit. Once again, this might be a bit beyond some of my students, but I would like to challenge them and see what they are able to do. We have built a gallery wall with students’ artworks put up as a collage. I will have the students add to this wall every couple of weeks so that they can watch as their art builds on itself. This is another new concept I am trying, but so far it seems to be going well. 

A Balancing Act.

One of the things that I am attempting to find in this new place is balancing my time to discover new areas within the town and to just take time to settle and enjoy my “new normal” life right now. That includes taking time on the weekend, such as I’ve done today, to just relax, read a book, shop a little, and play with the chapters on my current novel. I’ve hung up a few things on my bare apartment walls and still need to find some extra shelves for art supplies and, of course, books! In the future I would love to show off an art desk that I’ve had my eye on. If all goes well, this will make an appearance just in time for NaNoWriMo in November! 

*Till next time!* – HM

Looking Back: Final Thoughts.

I have really enjoyed my different experiences on the AT, or the Appalachian Trail, which is an east coast mountain range that runs the length of Georgia to Maine. My first adventures started in a previous blog, which you can read here. I try to be a stickler on my mileage as I’m hiking, but enjoyed the daily-occurring spurts of spontanety. That could be stopping to chat with someone in a shelter, listening to the wildlife around me (NOT rattlesnakes!), listening to other’s conversations, hearing the background of why people are on the trail, and even smelling nature. 

Once again, this experience reiterated that everyone has their own story and that I am rich compared to some people. I have the resources on a daily basis to obtain basics that I need as well as the options to go out to eat or, like I’m currently doing, even move cities whenever I need to. Seriously, I am going to work on how to see into people’s lives in the area in which I live. More on that later….

One of the things that I am learning is that I can push myself, but it’s also okay to not quite make it to my goal and to just start again the next day. The first time I did this on the trail, Dad and I were aiming for twenty-one miles. We had experienced lots of sharp rocks during the the previous days and the bottoms of my feet were so sore. We ended up just hiking seventeen miles that day which, even though that is a great accomplishment, I felt like that was a failure because I didn’t reach my daily goal marker. On something like this AT hiking particularly, there is a long-term goal I’m trying to reach and having a goal every day helps keep me consistent. BUT: It is also OKAY to stop, take a break, and even take a zero day when needed. That helps me enjoy the experience more and it will help me not to be in so much pain. Part of self-care is to make sure my body keeps up with my brain because my mind always has these grandiose ideas. It sometimes takes a second for my body to catch up. I’m not sure if this is something that I’m going to have to retrain my brain on or give myself grace. 

As a whole, hiking has allowed me the time to enjoy the little things, hopefully to teach me to slow down and enjoy things in life, even if I am not necessarily “getting things done.” This seems to be my default, but I have discovered that if I stop to ask questions, it is best to listen to the answers. When I do this I can develop relationships and learn new things from other people’s stories, retaining the information as they speak. I am going to attempt to be more intentional to enjoy the little moments and to take other people’s stories to heart. Hopefully this shows up in my writing and art as I creatively transfer stories to visual mediums to share with others. 

I cut my hiking trip short by a little more than a week because I accepted a new job! I will be moving about six hours away to teach, while still staying here in Texas. It will be another new experience, but I hope to take from it the patience that I learned from the regularity of hiking every day and also take moments to stop and enjoy what I am learning. Things get easier only when I take time to practice something new. The same goes with learning new techniques in a job. I will have several insights that I can draw from in previous teaching experiences, but I will have challenges: every year brings a new group of kids and every kid learns in their own way. As I’ve found out on this trip, everyone has their own background story and elementary students are no exception. I hope that my passion and enjoyment of the subjects that I teach will transfer to my students throughout the year.

TIMELINE: 

(NOT) THE END.

HYOH – “Hike Your Own Hike”: AT pt. 3

Supposedly there is a saying on the Appalachian Trail: “Hike your own hike,” which encourages each person to hike the way that they want to, giving whatever they have for their own hike to complete their goal. I did not see this a lot on the AT, but I am slowly learning to take the sentiment to heart. I was given a backwards compliment one day when a thru-hiker (someone who is hiking the entire trail from Georgia to Maine) asked how far I had covered that day. I told him I started late and just hiked eight miles. He said, “That’s why you look so put together,” basically stating that I didn’t do much. This was my first example that I was not on the same wavelength as other more “seasoned” hikers who had been there for more than three months. 

The last week of my hiking experience confirmed that I would love to continue hiking the entire Appalachian Trail one day. However, I did see more “dangerous” wildlife than I would like to in the span of a couple days. I laid eyes on a black rattlesnake, as well as a baby bear cub and a small, mama black bear. Both of these encounters startled me, but it was fun to add another experience to my hiking moments. 

There was a LOT of hiking uphill during my last week, as well as flat spots with rocks and beautiful river/creek areas. I have learned even when I am completely worn out, I can enjoy the beauty to be found in nature. I took several closeup pictures that I hope to use of bubbling streams, rocks, and also beautiful butterflies and insects as they obliviously went about their daily routines. Rain is something that I didn’t look forward to (because it meant that I usually had to walk in it), but it led to the gorgeous scenery that I experienced every day, so it once again taught me to enjoy both the positive and negative parts of my experience. 

I hung my first *official* bear hang; that was something that came in handy as I continued on the trail. It made me feel accomplished to learn something new and to be able to complete it successfully. At the same time, I hitchhiked a couple times, not as intimidating on the AT as it is in other parts of the States. According to locals and other hikers, seeing people walking on the side of the road with packs and poles is not unusual, and the people who picked me up explained that a hiker requesting a ride is a daily occurrence. I had several interesting conversations about travel, books, and work experiences, as well as a long conversation with my Uber driver when I caught a ride back to my grandparent’s house from a tiny, remote town (one that didn’t have Uber). 

One of my favorite experiences was finding a family-run pizza place called Scotto’s near my last shelter in Glasgow. They have Italian and American food, so while I’m sure their burgers are delicious, I settled on the calzone, which was amazing! The food I craved the entire time on the trail was pizza! There were a couple times that I would pack up leftovers and have pizza for another meal (I got less picky as the days went on for how my food was cooked–or in this case, NOT cooked). 

One of the things that I noticed among the hikers were the habits that each person picked up. This could be as simple as getting up early when they were not used to it, or starting to smoke again after having broken the habit. One camper explained that it was easy to fall into the habits of the people who were around them; that sometimes it was better to have a small community than to be in this alone. I understand. I enjoyed the solitary hiking throughout the day, no matter how hard the trail, but always looked forward to meeting new people each evening in the shelters. We would sit and compare gear or explain where we were from and what weird things we saw that day. Those who were NoBos, or northbound, gave me advice on what I might experience on the trail ahead of me (I was a SoBo section hiker, so headed in the opposite direction). I picked up on best tips to use whenever hiking many, many hours a day, like we all were. 

It was a hard three weeks on my body, but I enjoyed it. There was so much to see in nature and there was always something new to anticipate on the path ahead of me. Some days were harder than others, but it was worth the pain to experience the beauty of the next “green tunnel” section. I will be writing one more section on my experiences, focusing on the things that I have learned from my summer adventure and what I hope to do differently. Until next time… 

June 2023

The Treasured Past.

“The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window and—”

“Wait a minute—“ Terri interrupts. “You’re not going to set this thing on fire, are you? I have a thing about fires.”

“Would you shut up?” Loren lobs her pillow, then quickly retrieves it and stuffs the fluff under her elbows. She waves an arm towards their leader, at the same time waving away the Texas-sized mosquito. “It’s fine, Cate. Keep going. She’s trying to think too much and this retreat is to re-laaax. We’re ready for this now.” She gives Terri a pointed look, just as the campfire pops, lending significance to the term ghost story. 

“Right. Give us your worst.” Terri bites her lip and turns to Cate, who oblivious, squats closer to the fire and blows out a charcoaled marshmallow. 

As she chews I can imagine the ash in her mouth. “Mmmm, delicious!” Cate smacks, and plops back on the log, dubbed the seat of tales. “Now where were we?” She shuffles her boots in the New England leaves. 

“The candle,” I pipe up. Despite my skepticism in ghost stories, Cate is widely known in the area for her tall tales and she can spin with the best of them, even those who have inhabited these woods for fifty years. It’s a long weekend away, and nothing in the real world matters to us here. Plus, what is a fire for, if not to tell ghost stories and eat pounds of junk food? I grab a handful of cheddar chips and toss one in the air, straight into Terri’s waiting mouth. She grins and we both munch, happily acting like kids, waiting for Cate to continue.

“It was amazing that night. Fog rolled in…” she begins. Like tonight, I think, noticing the low fog creeping in from the woods. “The porch of the cabin was angled just enough to catch a breeze, but nothing stirred until–“

A clatter of pans or something from the far side of the campground surprises me. “What was that?” I muse out loud. Loren shoots the same look that she had used on Terri earlier and I crane my head around, ignoring the silent scolding. 

The view is blocked by some bushes, and Cate continues speaking like she didn’t even hear it. She sure gets into the storytelling mode; not distracted by anything. I creep around the twenty yards or so separating me from our lunch area. Maybe we left something out and a critter got into them. Nothing. The table is empty and there isn’t any telltale litter or animal scurring away. Music comes from somewhere over the brush. It must have been left on in our bunks. Terri can’t go without her music, but she’ll want to save the batteries for the long drive back to the “real world” tomorrow.

Well, no use interrupting the story. I won’t be missing anything, I consider. I slide open the cabin door, but stop short. This is wrong. The layout is completely different. Am I in the right cabin? Music wanders in through a horn-like object in the corner of the room. A large table promonades in the middle of the room. A bright glow illuminates paper hangings, obviously made by children, waving flag-like in the breeze from the open door. Hunched the middle is a woman with a long orange skirt, her bare feet showing. She grasps a long pole with a large paddle at one end, like that used for wood-burned pizza, and plops a steaming loaf in the center of the table, next to the giant bowl of fruit and some slices of what I assume is ham. Who cooks anymore? 

“Um, sorry,” I stutter. I hook a thumb towards my back, trying to forage an explanation. “I…I must have gotten turned around. Thought this place was mine.”

The lady shakes her head. “Happens a lot. One hill looks pretty much like the next. There are some of my neighbors just about a half mile down the road if you’re looking for accommodations. They’re always taking in strays. And it looks like you’ve come a mighty long way.”

“I—” my brain tries to process what she’s saying. “You live here? Do you help with the camp?” 

“What camp? Oh, so sorry! Where are my manners? Come have a seat. I’m almost done with dinner and I’ll let you eat before the young ‘uns come and gobble everything!” 

I sit down, curious to know more about her, living here in the midst of so much hustle and bustle. She places a plate in front of me and piles it with bread, meat, and some greens that I don’t recognize. It must be something grown locally. Wow, they really go all out here! “So, tell me about your family.” I expect to hear whether she is a widow or divorced, but can’t think of a roundabout way to ask. 

“Well, my youngest is out playing now. Look over there and you might be able to see him.” I follow her finger that holds open the curtain of the front window and note with surprise that there is no screen. In the distance a little figure runs in wild circles, just beyond the tree line. Funny, the fog seems to have cleared and it has turned out to be a sunny day. Only it had just turned dusk when I left the campfire…before I can process this, the woman says, “It makes it difficult out here for him to find any friends. Or really any of us. But with my oldest out working, we manage. My husband…well, let’s say that man is no longer with us. We just need to make it to winter and I’m looking into moving closer to town. Finding something to help my kids, especially.” She signals toward the closed curtain.

“Excuse me, Mrs…” and I wait in expectation. 

“Wilson. Annabelle. And it’s just Miss.” 

“I’m Pran.” Annabelle nods. “Well, I’ve got to get back to my group, but thank you for the wonderful food.” 

When I open the door, I expect to find the impending storm cleared up, but it hasn’t. The fog is still there, as thick as it had been when I arrived. I glance behind me to see if Annabelle noticed, but she is not there. Neither is anything else.

Nothing at all is in the cabin except the empty table, a cold hearth, and a lone candle burning in the window. I shiver and slam the door, tripping over my own feet to get back to the warmth of our fire. After a few steps I hear Cate’s voice, dramatically rising as she continues her ghost story. 

Not even attempting stealth, I crunch into the firelight and slump on an empty log. Everyone stops talking and stares. “Cate!” I gasp. I am not even sure how to gather my thoughts. “Something’s going on in these woods. I just…I saw…” I gulp. Better to get it over with. “What do you know about an Annabelle Wilson?” My clothes still smell like her baking bread. But the empty cabin haunts my mind. 

“She started this camp.” She turns to the rest of our group, using her storytelling voice over the embers of firelight. “It was said that she invited a few friends at first to join a camp, but her expertise was homemaking. Despite being one of the only females in the business, she, with the help of her two sons, got this place up and running in just a few years.” 

I gulp. “When?”

“It was back in 1921, I think,” Cate squints at me. “Pran, you’re looking a little sick. Is it the altitude? I told you to drink more water.” 

“What about that little cabin over there? Behind our bunks.” 

Cate’s blank face says it all. 

Loren pipes up. “What are you talking about? That’s just an old graveyard. It’s been there for years. Have you seen it?”

No. And yes. 

“I like boring.”: AT pt. 2

We’ve had quite an adventure in the last several days of hiking! We have officially made it past our one hundred mile mark. As of this time of writing, Dad and I have hit around one hundred thirty-five hiking miles. After a certain point, I will continue for another two hundred miles or so, depending on the weather and elevations that I hit. If last week’s theme was getting our trail legs, this one has been something like taking what’s thrown at us. For instance, during one storm that we thought was supposed to pass over us in an hour, we decided to hunker down under our tent tarp. It kept our pants and shoes dry—until the weather app updated to more than three hours of continued storms. What did we do? We hiked another five miles in the rain. Nothing on our person or in the top of our packs was dry until the following afternoon. 

Realities.

We’ve been hiking in one area of the Appalachian Trail for six days now, quite a change from the rockiness on the previous parts of the trail. For more details on the beginning of our trip, find my first blog post or the writing about our first week. We’ve been warned that this area is a “boring” part of the AT. After hiking a few days on the fairly level terrain without the small, sharp rocks, Dad decided, “I like boring.” There have been quite a few ups and downs, steep inclines, and soggy campgrounds, but along with the harder parts of the trail, I’m hearing hikers’ stories, finding friendly animals, capturing beautiful views, and enjoying softer trails. Our feet are so grateful. A couple of days now we’ve had thunderstorms and heavy mist, but also lots of beautiful mornings and some delicious meals at nearby restaurants. On day nine of our adventure, we got a “real” shower. This has been an eye-opener because it reminds me of the little things I enjoy that I don’t necessarily get on the trail, such as daily showers, hairspray, and real food. We get several snacks a day and stop every couple hours for a water or food break. It also might be a little thing, but I’m beginning to appreciate the idea of a mouldering privy, which is an outhouse with a bucket or two of sawdust mulch, which is thrown into the toilet hole after doing your business. My favorite mouldering privy also smelled like lavender and had a large hand sanitizer on the side. As Dad mentioned one day, some of the trail looks the same, so I am trying to find good sketching ideas and different angles to capture things we see every day. I know several people are following my summer escapades because they don’t yet have a chance to do this. I hope to inspire as well as enlighten everyone to some of the realities of the AT. 

Favorites.

We were able to hike the longest day yet, a twenty-miler, because of the gentle sloping trail, despite rain attempting to slow us down. One of the things I’ve enjoyed the most is the variety of animals. We’ve seen everything from red-headed woodpeckers and robins to deer and newts. While these sightings might be commonplace to those living in this area, I’m excited to experience something new and learn more about nature in another state. I’ve claimed the Wild Columbine as one of my favorite flowers that I’ve seen, which is four bell-like flowers with yellow tips, connected together on the top end. Also, deer in this area seem to be so used to humans! We’ve seen many deer meandering on the path in front of us and one morning when Dad was putting up his tent, one deer walked toward him within about six feet! She kept inching closer and he was wondering if she wanted him to feed her. 

Great experiences and memories these first couple weeks and I look forward to many more! 

P.S. – nothing beats REAL coffee (and ice cream)!

Moments and Memories: Medical Missions in Peru

Last week I returned from a (very short) medical mission trip to Peru. I had the privilege of being the interpreter for one of our nurse practitioners on the trip. We got an early start each day and worked until late into the night. Here’s a breakdown of the things that I experienced and memories that were made: 

Day 1: Travel Day.

We made it to the airport and finally boarded after a two hour delay. Because of this setup the group missed our next flight by minutes, and had a difficult time with customer service. Just in time we had arrived at the counter, but the staff was extremely overwhelmed and there were some words exchanged. The line behind us continued growing for the next couple hours. Our group was still determined to stay together, so our pastor was on the phone for a couple hours with a very helpful agent. Once we had rebooked flights for the morning, we split into our respective groups and the “fab five” as we called ourselves set out for the hotel shuttle. When we had settled in our room, we walked to a nearby restaurant and had a leisurely and late dinner with lots of chips and salsa. 

Day 2: Prep time.

We scrambled onto the flight that connected with another part of our team from two other cities. After a quick introduction and perusal of shops in the area, we boarded our train finally heading to Lima. Once we got there my bag and one other person’s didn’t arrive. We waited for several hours well past midnight with no luck on my suitcase. After filling out a lost luggage form we headed to the hotel before an early morning. The next flight would leave the following morning, several hours before dawn. 

Day 3-6: Clinic Days.

Most of us just got an hour or two of sleep, guzzling coffee to maintain alertness. When we landed in Trujillo, the area where we were going to work with our church, we unloaded *their* baggage, and sat down for breakfast and more coffee. We sorted the medications, still a small supply until the second half of our group made it in, to arrive the following day. Since my nurse practitioner was not in the country yet, another person and I sorted several of the kids’ toys that would be used in future church work. 

Days one, two and three of clinic were very long and Spanish-filled for me. We started around 9:00 each morning where I would sit at one end of the table and T, my nurse practictioner, would sit next to me. Each person would go through intake, get basic medical information written along with other concerns, and walk up to us. They sat in front of T either as individuals, couples, or families. Sometimes parents would come requesting information about their child, who was in school after six hours of waiting in line. Some of the people were coming to us after work, or had taken off a day to come see us. 

Stories.

Each person had stories. Either they had seen us four years back when we were there last, or they had not been able to seek medical assistance since their medicine had run out during Covid. Some were inquiring as to the best way to help their infant children. One young lady was caring for multiple kids and her own elderly parents at the same time. We had one older lady who could hardly stand after multiple days of back-breaking labor in her yard. So many stories of sore joints, backs, and heads because of the hard work that they are required to do, often in the sun, and usually with the necessity of feeding their own families. A couple young people were requesting information on protection products and others on how to handle self-care. 

One of my favorite stories, which also touched T as well, included a mother with two young boys, ages eight and ten. They were very respectful when T was inspecting them, asking questions, and getting to know them a little. Then when we got to the mother, she just shared that she wanted her children to be healthy. After some prodding from T, she explained a couple things that she might be able to receive, such as medicine continuation for her back. T was very good about looking up comparative medications or remedies that would be available in Trujillo that wouldn’t cost much. Let me emphasize: These people are spending all their very hard earned money to care for their children. For them, family is everything. The young mother teared up and explained to T that she was a single parent. Then it was like a curtain lifted and T was able to give advice to this woman on self-care and on allowing her boys to share responsibility when she was unable to carry things or get as much done as she would like. 

Another scene that I love was when one little four-year-old was acting just like any child that age who has waited a really long time. He sat still for three minutes when T was checking him and then started touching everything around him. At one point he started fiddling with the smiley face on T’s stethoscope and she offered for him to listen to her heart. Whenever he put those on, he stood stock still for a full five minutes! I like to think that some day he might become a doctor in Peru. 

Conversations like these remind me why I love working in a position where I can speak other languages. In situations like this, I get to be a fly on the wall and help make conversations possible between people who otherwise would not have understood anything beyond “Hello.” This is why I continue to study and travel, teaching me that there is always something new to learn every day. 

Reflection.

There were a couple days of travel after this, but the majority of my enjoyment was completed on the very last day. I hate saying goodbye, but I love leaving the Peruvians with the family who serves there, knowing that they will be in good hands. These are a strong people and I can’t wait to see what happens when we see them again!

Happy Trails! AT pt. 1

I wrote about the new season in my life in a previous blog and this week I have been taking my zero day (whenever I don’t hike at all) spending time with my grandparents and setting up job interviews. I think I’ve finally gotten my “trail legs” so I think the next several days should be easier. I cannot discount the fact that there have been so many beautiful scenery spots and even more VERY tough hills. 

Yes, you read that right. Almost everything that my dad and I have hiked so far has been considered hills, meaning that we have not yet ascended to a “mountain-like” elevation. That is coming up in the next couple days! These experiences that included hills were extremely difficult to climb and left me sore for days! We’ve experienced a few downhills that we can trot down and also some places that I call “rock gardens”, when the path is full of rocks and boulders that are *slightly!* difficult to get over. We also have seen some animals and I ate some early blackberries off the trail. 

Each day our goal was to cover around ten miles, which we completed successfully in the first few days, despite very hot temperatures on Day 2 and Dad nearly overheating. However, he is still Superman because he continued plodding on then and ALSO on Day 4 whenever we decided to continue on for eighteen miles to reach a shelter—one that didn’t contain a black snake and copperhead! 

Each night we try to find a camping shelter (a three-sided building), a spring or creek, and a privy. This makes it easier to relax, take some time to sit, and enjoy talking with other hikers. It is neat to hear everyone’s perspectives on hiking, reasons for taking their trip, and trail names, which are given by other hikers, usually to emphasize a part of their hiking personality or physical description. For instance, I’ve met people like Crocs, Smokey the Bard, Gandalf, and Camel. The majority of people I meet are NoBo, or North-Bound (hiking the full trail from Georgia to Maine), but others are section hiking like me or SoBo, South-Bound (Maine to Georgia). 

I initially brought around 30 pounds of gear including food/water, but am going to try to lighten this by a few pounds this upcoming week. I have just the essentials when it comes to clothes, good trail running shoes, a set of trusty poles, and lots of snacks. One of the things that always sounds good on the trail is pizza, so we’ve gotten that a couple times in a hostel and on our “Nero” day (near zero miles hiked). 

In the evenings I like to explore the area, take pictures, talk with incoming hikers, or journal. I have a couple books on my phone, but only am able to charge my phone 1-2 times a week, so I leave it on airplane mode most of the time. I have been journaling about my experiences on the trail and writing some short stories for my blog, as well as scenes for the manuscripts I’m currently working on. I hope to send out some of my writing for editing in the month or so after I get back, so it’s a good thing to have a place to scribble. More and more of my art has been completed by pen, which is a bit more difficult to work with than pencil, but smears less. In future blogs I’ll include more things we’ve seen, but right now it’s just some fun sketches. 

The Appalachian Trail is walked by the majority of hikers from Springer Mountain in Georgia to Mount Katahdin in Maine. It is easier to give hikers time to get their hiking legs this way, but the old trail started in Maine. At this point, I will probably cover a good distance, but won’t even scratch the surface of the entire 2,190ish miles of the AT. One day…