The original Words for Wednesday was begun by Delores and eventually taken over by a moveable feast of participants when Delores had computer troubles.
The aim of the words is to encourage us to write a story, a poem, whatever comes to mind.
If you are posting an entry on your own blog, please let us know so we can come along and read it.
This month the words are supplied by Lee and can be found here.
This week's words are:
this week I'm continuing the story of Tom and his memories
Here is my story:
Looking up at the brilliant blue canopy above, Tom took a moment to acknowledge his current level of sky-high happiness was a little ludicrous, but still he couldn't stop grinning. Vanessa and Robert wanted him as their son!
He was sceptical about adoption being possible at his age, but even without that formality, Tom would be proud to be known as their son.
For the past eight years they had stood by him, teaching him the world wasn't such a bad place, raising him with love, steering him through his rebellious teenage years, talking him out of a foolhardy plan to drop out of school and just work with Robert on the farm. They stressed the importance of education.
His mood sobering, Tom recalled vague, long ago memories of panic at being lost and alone, not knowing where his parents were or what had happened to them. He remembered years of being shunted from one foster home to another, each time rejected because of his fear-driven tantrums, nightmares and sleepwalking. Growing out of those, Tom became sullen and socially withdrawn, taking advantage of every opportunity to steal money or food and skip school.
Robert and Vanessa Moore had turned all that around almost from the first day. Instead of talking at him, laying down rules and punishments for breaking them, they talked to him and with him, encouraging Tom to speak freely. More importantly, they listened.
They took him shopping for new clothes that hadn't already been worn by countless other boys before him, asked him to help with selecting groceries, and didn't begrudge him second helpings at the dinner table. Robert took him around the farm, showing Tom every aspect of self-sufficient farming, the crops, the small tractor, the chickens that laid their breakfast eggs, the orchard that supplied their fruit.
Tom grew, physically and emotionally, flourishing under their care. He rarely mentioned his parents. Requests made by Robert to obtain Tom's earliest paperwork, brought the discovery that nothing before age eight could be found. There had been a fire in the office building and the records of many children had been burned.
Putting aside those thoughts, Tom went back to his room, picked up a small knapsack already packed with notebook, a couple of extra pens and a camera and set out to find the trail Bill Money had told him would lead up to the Scenic Retreat.
There were two trails, one easily accessible that most tourists used and a smaller goat track for those who wanted a more challenging activity. There was a small turn-around halfway up with a seat where a person could rest and Tom thought this lesser track would give excellent photographic opportunities.
He checked his watch, Bill had said the climb might take as much as an hour, depending on how fit someone might be, saw there was plenty of time and set out to meet with Mr and Mrs Saunders. He'd leave the library and pub searches for another day.
IF TWITTER EXISTED WHEN THE BIBLE WAS WRITTEN...
3 hours ago