Nancy Margolis offered a session on May 11.
Nancy Margolis hosted a workshop, “From Prompts to Prose, Let’s See What Grows.” Nancy became a certified AWA workshop leader in 2011. In addition to leading AWA groups, she has taught and tutored writing for almost 15 years at Villanova University, Bryn Mawr College, and Temple University. Other writing services she provides include college essay coaching, manuscript review, nonprofit grant development, and editing support for corporate clients. She holds a masters degree in education and teaching from Boston University and an undergraduate degree in economics from The University of Pennsylvania.
by Lenora Adams
My first husband…in my head. Back then I didn’t know that just because I declared who I would marry that it may not come true.
It must have been summer. Every window in the apartment was raised allowing the sounds from the older kids on the street to blast through our apartment. While I waited for my future husband to appear every once in awhile the shades would slap against the window, stealing the warm breeze. Because of the heat I was shirtless and in pink panties with ruffles and my hair…Whew child! No matter how tight mommy plaited my hair once my thumb found its way to the warmth of my mouth, my other hand often fiddled in my thick curls and before long a bird’s nest of rebellious locks crowned my head. Normally, this wouldn’t bother me as I was in my safe space. But on this night, my future husband was to appear—along with his four brothers, larger than life in my front room.
“Fix my hair,” I begged mommy. “I don’t want Michael to see it.”
But instead of pulling me into her bosom so her long fingers could work their magic, my mother laughed and said, “He can’t see you from the TV.”
“But I’m going to marry him.”
My sister older, by six years and bossy as ever, staked her claim, saying, “I’m going to marry Michael Jackson. He’s mine.”
by Christie Turano
It opens to the world and
I see the sky and feel seen by God’s grand
Glance. His vision, expansive, clear, never ending.
It is here I soar and swim into this invisible medium
Of air, as my spirit climbs out of this open window, and
Into imagination’s territory. Out of myself and
These walls that hold me and fly
Toward Him, the author and finisher of my faith
Into the wind’s abode, the sun’s home – the sky.
Thank you for joining us to Write Around the World!
For the rest of the summer, watch our blog! We are sharing writing from AWA’s yearly marathon fundraiser, which happened this year all-online throughout the month of May.
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