We are past the halfway mark of guest posters for my Back to School Bonanza! There is no better blogger to bring us over the halfway hump than Kris from Pretty All True. Kris has a way with words that I have found unparalled in the blogging world. She can paint any picture in the world using nothing but the black and white of the screen. just letters and characters. and all of a sudden you find yourself in her world. Feeling emotions you didn’t know you had.
Kris does something with words that I have come to call exploding a moment because she can take one small crumb from the back of her memory and make it erupt into color and sparkle all over your computer screen.
Plus also? Kris teams up with Adrienne to kick my butt in gear when I am feeling sorry for myself. They legitimately build me up when I need it, but they can spot a whiner and they NEVER let me get away with it.
I highly recommend her blog, Pretty All True, not just for the content, but the commenters are always lively too! You canNOT be let down by Kris. Unless swearing and a wee bit of sex turns you off. She MAY get saucy from time to time regularly.
Anyway, I will stop blabbering about Kris and let you read her lovely post. Oh, and you can follow her on twitter. She stops by there from time to time regularly.
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Fighting for Place
About Katie
Kris-
As always, your words are magic. I love the image of the tree. Wow. With that imagination, you were clearly destined to be a writer way back then.
I'm sharing this on Facebook.
that's gorgeous! we moved a lot when I was a kid, too…and the most I can remember is getting welfare milk and free lunch – nothing as poetic as your memories…
I think that again you took the words from my heart and put them in this place in a way that I can never do. I envy your gift.
I lost count long ago of how many schools that I attended. Books were my tree of choice.
Love.
I never moved that much – until I was an adult – but I was always terrified of change. I never saw new beginnings. I saw the old & familiar blankie of routine as being yanked away from me whenever I was forced to change. Mind you, I was still inept at making friends, even tho I was in the same place.
I love how you can describe things like this so eloquently. I am constantly amazed. 🙂
lovely kris. as always, i am right there with you, i can see your face & the scene around you…in my mind's eye.
Did teachers ever intervene and try to pull you in…try to get you to interact and trust others? Reading about you being so young and having so many walls built up around you, protecting you, just blows my mind.
beautiful
What a powerful memory! It means a lot to me, since I work with elementary students who are at-risk for school adjustment issues…moving a lot, illness, divorcing parents, foster care, death of someone close, etc….this really touched my heart.
I am a new subscriber to your blog, glad I found you!
I knew such a tree.
Different totemic meaning.
But definitely such a tree.
This, right here? This is the connection between us – this aloneness, this separateness. I went to the same elementary school from the middle of kindergarten through 5th grade; one middle school; one high school. But still, I was alone. Girl in a bubble, unless the other kids were being mean.
Your talent knows no bounds, my friend.
This piece is lovely and haunting.
Love you…love your beautiful writing.
Lovely to come here and find you – twice in one day, what a treat!. As always your words are beautiful, powerful, truth telling, generous. You give so much of yourself to your words, through your words. And yes, I know that so much is also held back. A delicate balancing act, this ripping open of ourselves to spill out onto the page: just enough blood, guts, brains, spleen, funny bone to connect, to reveal, to make art; but not too much. To do all that and yet hold back enough inside to keep us vital, still. And you walk that fine line so well, my friend. Thank you for being you.
Kris, your story is beautiful and sad at the same time. That's why I love reading you…you evoke all kinds of emotions.
I've read this over & over; it's heartbreakingly beautiful and the emotion is so vividly stark. The beauty of your words stops my breath; you bring to mind the lovely wee violets that force their way up thru the cracked asphalt in abandoned parking lots, pushing up with unrelenting resilience, determined to feel the warmth of the Sun and the cool rain. Fragile appearance belying the strength that lives inside. Were you aware of how unique the spirit of your young self was? Your writing ability is a gift, of this there is no doubt & as you say, the woman you are today was forged from the girl you were then and from all that happened later. I only wish that things hadn't been so hard for that imaginative little girl and that there'd been more magic in her young life. I also love her, and you.
As always, I love you Kris. I can see this little girl with disheveled third grader hair dancing around the base of this tree. In her world, part of and yet not a part of the rest of the world.
You know what it is about Kris? She sums up and gathers the thoughts I have that won't stop swirling in the background.
She can do that.
She brings up shit, yes, but she also places it in a box so I can see oh where that belongs now OK.
Like this? I never remembered how often we moved and how often I was the new kid until this post. How did I forget that?
I just did.
Beautiful.
I had to go away from this one for a day.
I didn't move a lot. I changed schools once. It didn't matter. I wasn't part of them. Either of them. I think I was a senior in high school before I realized I wasn't invisble. Though I tried very hard to be.
I wish I had met that tree. At least I'd have a memory.
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