I’m struggling with the next segment in my “On Trial” story. It requires more discretion than the last one, and I’m wrestling with finding the proper balance. To end any vain imaginations readers might have, I’ll tell you now that though I knew the person responsible for the second crime, it was not anyone I am related to or have had contact with in over 35 years. I intend to protect their identity now and in the future, for it serves no purpose to do otherwise.
When I began writing about my jury summons experience, I had a totally different picture of what that would be – one post telling of God’s favor. One post. Then I started writing. And writing and writing. And not sleeping, because I couldn’t turn off my thoughts, remembering details I’d long ago forgotten. I’d wake up in the morning writing in my head.
I’ve told bits and pieces of these stories to many of my close friends – around a campfire or over a cup of tea. Not once can I remember ever doing so at a retreat, conference, women’s group, or church where I have been given the opportunity to speak. Interesting.
A year or two after I recovered from surgeries on the leg I had broken in the accident (it’s not a good idea to run on a broken leg, by the way), in my naivety, I submitted an unsolicited telling of that story to Guideposts. I’m grateful today that the editors returned it six weeks later with my first rejection slip – a polite note informing me that it wasn’t what they were looking for. It was not a story that was ready to be told. Until now – 42 years later.
So I beg your patience with me a little while longer, while I detour away from courtrooms and crimes and back to Pollywog Creek…
…and the Painted Buntings – can you believe they are still here?
…damsel flies around the pond
weeds wildflowers along the creek.