But when the time came, the ceremony warped into a mere blur of words and music and the heavy scent of roses, so brief I remember only the warm, solid weight of Stephen’s hand in mine.

I love this last line, AmyLiz. So honest and so evocative.

I'm there with you in this drabble, and I really like it. I have to ask, though, have you tried this in present tense? I have a feeling it might be even more powerful.

In MEME news, I want to thank Deb, dcp, Bev, and Sunil for thoughtful comments on that teaching essay. I didn't immediately want to hear all of what you had to say (and of course I didn't take every single suggestion anyway!), but your comments greatly improved the essay overall. I'm working now on some nitpicky details (removing a couple of cliches, looking for sentence fluency, etc.), but I think it's almost done.

I was wondering, though, if I could ask the thread at large for some wording suggestions about a couple of paragraphs?

Can I post a few paragraphs and ask some specific questions?

Edited to remove unecessary emoticon. I blame too much turkey.

No. We are an unhelpful lot.

Heh. Go for it.

t sticks tongue out at P-C

Okay. Here's section one:

Just days before they graduated, I asked them to write a letter to themselves that I would never see. They could write about anything: how it felt to be graduating, what they wanted in their futures, where they thought they’d be in a few years. They could have friends write them notes, include pictures, or even fold a couple of bucks into the envelope. I gave them suggestions, but what they chose to include, or not to include, was their secret.

The last step was for them to jot a date on the back of the envelope—any year within the next five—seal it, and give the letter to me. I stored the unopened letters in a special desk drawer until after New Year’s each year and then dropped them in the mail, personal time capsules.

I told them that it was a chance for them to have a conversation with their future selves and a lesson about the power of words. Even my most reluctant students got excited by it and stuffed their envelopes full of who knows what, and since my second year of teaching I’d had a new batch to send out every January.

dcp pointed out some organization/tightness issues here, and I agree. He made a suggestion, but I'm not sold on it yet. I'm looking for a way to make this more concise. I'd like to get rid of paragraph 2 and 3 and make them a single, more concise paragraph to follow the first one. Also, I want to get rid of "who knows what" and substitute something better. Thoughts?

Question #2:

There were as many possibilities for the blankness as there could have been future paths for his life.

That, or:

There were as many possibilities for the blankness as there were futures he could have had.

or something else?

The latter flows better.

Still thinking about your first question. I think paragraphs #2 and #3 impart important information, and I can't see you losing too much from them.

Question 1: I had my say already, but I like the changes so far.

Question 2: I prefer the second.

I didn't think about present tense, but you might be right, Kristin.

As for this:

Also, I want to get rid of "who knows what" and substitute something better.

what about "memories, hopes, fears" or something like that?

I like the second choice for the second question, although not having read the essay I'm not sure what "the blankness" is.

The latter flows better.

Ah, see, I disagree. You don't have many futures; you have one future. What you have in your one future are many possibilities.

Shortening up those three paragraphs for conciseness definitely has merit. I need to think about it for a little bit, though.

One last Time Passing drabble.

When I met it, it was a community center, trying to keep a heartbeat going in the hundred-year-old school complex. The center closed; dark things happened in the empty buildings. The Satanic temple was almost laughable in the light of day, except for what was left of the pigeons.

City councilmen, developers all, wanted it torn down, wanted waivers on the Historical Register listing. We fought it, not wanting another blockfull of student ghettos. Fifteen years we waited, expecting any night to see firetrucks where yet another "mysterious" fire had broken out.

We voted, and won. We'd get a new library--if we could raise all the money. We raised the money, despite the changing deadlines. We waited for firetrucks; we accepted the compromise of reconstruction over restoration.

The councilmen at the dedication congratulated themselves on their support of the project. We ignored them. We won.

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