I swing higher and think about how Randi’s bouncy ponytail forms a long spiral. She always looks cute. My straight brown hair resembles a pilgrim boy’s. She has baby-smooth skin the color of rich cream. Freckles splash across my nose, like splattered paint. I’ve tried erasing them, but they’re stuck. White-out almost worked, until Mom made me wash the “white blobs” off my face.

I tilt my head back and close my eyes. A sports car zooms by, revving and blasting music. It sounds like Mr. Picconi’s Corvette convertible, a car he named “Jenny” and keeps hidden in the garage.

I stop swinging and daydream. On sunny days, Randi’s father would open the garage, remove his treasure, and take us for a ride with the top down. I imagined we were on the Thunderbolt Rollercoaster as he sped down the hill at the end of our street. We giggled as our stomachs felt butterfly tickles. I loved riding in the sparkly turquoise Corvette, a hundred times nicer than our squash colored station wagon. All of the boys on our block stared as we drove around in a car cooler than any of their Hot Wheels. Randi and I pretended we were the queens of Hartwell Drive.

“Hello, hello people,” we called out as we waved royal-looking waves. “We’re taking a drive through our kingdom. See you later at the castle.” I could taste the air, like a mouthful of cotton candy melting on my tongue.


The sweet tasting air suddenly turns to wet snowflakes. I leap off and trudge toward warmth, fighting the bitter wind and snow that press against me. The flakes melt on my face, blending with my tears.

I turn the front door knob like a thief trying not to trip the alarm. I want to sneak down the hall and crawl under my covers without being seen or heard. It works until my bed creaks.

“Are you okay, Francie?”

I don’t answer. I try to muffle my crying in the pillow, but those muffled cries are the alarm to Mom. A gentle knock, Mom’s knock, and the door creaks open.

Mom sits down next to me. “You can talk to me when you need to. I’m proud of you for being such a good friend.” Mom’s voice is soft and she rubs my back.

I sit up and wipe my eyes. “She’s gonna be gone a whole month in the hospital.” I picture counting the days on a calendar. A month is so long. All I want to do is sleep, wake up tomorrow, and drive away, even on the stupid school bus. Anything to get away from this mess.

I was given this book from Blogging for Books for an honest review!

“I AM” 
By Michele Ward 

I AM . . . Woven Wind, clearing troubled, anxious minds. Let me fluff the tresses of your straw-strewn hair.

I AM . . . Sky, filled with hopes and dreams. Dream of my possibilities for you.

I AM . . . Earth, nurturing seeds and expressing life. Hold me in you hands and smell me. Squish me soft between your naked toes.

I AM . . . Sea, with many-voiced waves whispering peace and squalling surrender. Roll up your jeans and frolic in my beauty.

I AM . . . fire, guided light and energy for your journey here. Diffuse me only if you dare.

I AM . . . Smoke, warning you of eminent danger. Watch for me.

I AM . . . Creek, on a refreshing and quenching quest, accompanying you on the curls and coils of travel.

I AM . . . Garden, to behold and nourish. I need weeding, watering, watching, sunrays bright, with dazzling light and song.

I AM. . . Grass, to cool and soften your senses. Go ahead; take off your shoes, walk on me. Let me refresh your feet for frolic.

I AM . . Flower. They call me blossom. Enjoy my short-lived beauty, frail and fragrant. Caress me quiet and elegant.

I AM . . . Rain, to soothe and shower you with trickling memories. Come outside and keep me company in the marvel of my downpour. Play in me.

I AM . . . Thunder, to release you from your daily doldrums.

I AM . . . Lightening. They call me Neon Sky. Thunder speaks of me. Look for me when thunder shakes your world. I’ll be there to entertain you and spark adventure in you languid life.

I AM . . . Ocean Tide, the ebb and flow of life: In-flowing good, out-flowing bad. But you never know what the tide is going to bring in. Hold my hand so we both won’t be swept away with the out-going bad. It is not always good to be alone.

I AM . . .Sunbeam. I love to make your body warm all over. But I can be dangerous. Don’t get too close for too long or I’ll burn you. Allow me space to glow when and where you can. Don’t shut me out all day. A little dose of me can be good for your moody moments.

I AM . . .Air, the substance you breathe. Do not take me for granted. Help me to stay pure for you. Inhale me; take me in.

I AM . . . Tree. Birds rush to settle safe in my branched arms. Come dawdle in my shade. Climb up and behold the freedom I feel up here to stir the sky senseless.

I AM . . . Bird. I dance on wind-tides to the tempo of my wings, sprinkling nymph and gnome notes over fields of dreams dreamt.

I AM . . . Music. Dance with me please! I love to dance to the rhythm of nature. Listen . Do you hear it? Or is the silence too loud for you?

I AM . . . Silence. I bring you calm and intuition. To you I promise magic. Take time to soak in my essence. Let me soften you - within and without.

I AM . . . GOD, your friend. …………….come closer.


April 12, 2001

I swing higher and think about how Randi’s bouncy ponytail forms a long spiral. She always looks cute. My straight brown hair resembles a pilgrim boy’s. She has baby-smooth skin the color of rich cream. Freckles splash across my nose, like splattered paint. I’ve tried erasing them, but they’re stuck. White-out almost worked, until Mom made me wash the “white blobs” off my face.

I tilt my head back and close my eyes. A sports car zooms by, revving and blasting music. It sounds like Mr. Picconi’s Corvette convertible, a car he named “Jenny” and keeps hidden in the garage.

I stop swinging and daydream. On sunny days, Randi’s father would open the garage, remove his treasure, and take us for a ride with the top down. I imagined we were on the Thunderbolt Rollercoaster as he sped down the hill at the end of our street. We giggled as our stomachs felt butterfly tickles. I loved riding in the sparkly turquoise Corvette, a hundred times nicer than our squash colored station wagon. All of the boys on our block stared as we drove around in a car cooler than any of their Hot Wheels. Randi and I pretended we were the queens of Hartwell Drive.

“Hello, hello people,” we called out as we waved royal-looking waves. “We’re taking a drive through our kingdom. See you later at the castle.” I could taste the air, like a mouthful of cotton candy melting on my tongue.


The sweet tasting air suddenly turns to wet snowflakes. I leap off and trudge toward warmth, fighting the bitter wind and snow that press against me. The flakes melt on my face, blending with my tears.

I turn the front door knob like a thief trying not to trip the alarm. I want to sneak down the hall and crawl under my covers without being seen or heard. It works until my bed creaks.

“Are you okay, Francie?”

I don’t answer. I try to muffle my crying in the pillow, but those muffled cries are the alarm to Mom. A gentle knock, Mom’s knock, and the door creaks open.

Mom sits down next to me. “You can talk to me when you need to. I’m proud of you for being such a good friend.” Mom’s voice is soft and she rubs my back.

I sit up and wipe my eyes. “She’s gonna be gone a whole month in the hospital.” I picture counting the days on a calendar. A month is so long. All I want to do is sleep, wake up tomorrow, and drive away, even on the stupid school bus. Anything to get away from this mess.

“I AM” 
By Michele Ward 

I AM . . . Woven Wind, clearing troubled, anxious minds. Let me fluff the tresses of your straw-strewn hair.

I AM . . . Sky, filled with hopes and dreams. Dream of my possibilities for you.

I AM . . . Earth, nurturing seeds and expressing life. Hold me in you hands and smell me. Squish me soft between your naked toes.

I AM . . . Sea, with many-voiced waves whispering peace and squalling surrender. Roll up your jeans and frolic in my beauty.

I AM . . . fire, guided light and energy for your journey here. Diffuse me only if you dare.

I AM . . . Smoke, warning you of eminent danger. Watch for me.

I AM . . . Creek, on a refreshing and quenching quest, accompanying you on the curls and coils of travel.

I AM . . . Garden, to behold and nourish. I need weeding, watering, watching, sunrays bright, with dazzling light and song.

I AM. . . Grass, to cool and soften your senses. Go ahead; take off your shoes, walk on me. Let me refresh your feet for frolic.

I AM . . Flower. They call me blossom. Enjoy my short-lived beauty, frail and fragrant. Caress me quiet and elegant.

I AM . . . Rain, to soothe and shower you with trickling memories. Come outside and keep me company in the marvel of my downpour. Play in me.

I AM . . . Thunder, to release you from your daily doldrums.

I AM . . . Lightening. They call me Neon Sky. Thunder speaks of me. Look for me when thunder shakes your world. I’ll be there to entertain you and spark adventure in you languid life.

I AM . . . Ocean Tide, the ebb and flow of life: In-flowing good, out-flowing bad. But you never know what the tide is going to bring in. Hold my hand so we both won’t be swept away with the out-going bad. It is not always good to be alone.

I AM . . .Sunbeam. I love to make your body warm all over. But I can be dangerous. Don’t get too close for too long or I’ll burn you. Allow me space to glow when and where you can. Don’t shut me out all day. A little dose of me can be good for your moody moments.

I AM . . .Air, the substance you breathe. Do not take me for granted. Help me to stay pure for you. Inhale me; take me in.

I AM . . . Tree. Birds rush to settle safe in my branched arms. Come dawdle in my shade. Climb up and behold the freedom I feel up here to stir the sky senseless.

I AM . . . Bird. I dance on wind-tides to the tempo of my wings, sprinkling nymph and gnome notes over fields of dreams dreamt.

I AM . . . Music. Dance with me please! I love to dance to the rhythm of nature. Listen . Do you hear it? Or is the silence too loud for you?

I AM . . . Silence. I bring you calm and intuition. To you I promise magic. Take time to soak in my essence. Let me soften you - within and without.

I AM . . . GOD, your friend. …………….come closer.


April 12, 2001