What do you think of this poem, prose, story, whatever?

I think of you swinging in your grandmother’s back yard. Excitement %26amp; predictability combined: An autistic child’s favorite activity. It’s no wonder that some days you’d stay on the swings for hours. No giggles or smiles, but a look of deep concentration as if you are trying to defy physics with every swing.


But today, something apparently distracts you. Do you climb the fence on just a whim, or does something catch your eye?


But over you go and the adventure begins. Wading through the tall weeds, chasing grasshoppers that scatter with every step. Weaving through the fallen trees that would block an adults’ path.


At some point you hear a sound. The thrilling sound of trickling, gurgling, flowing water.


No longer are your steps random, but with great purpose you hike through the grass %26amp; find the creek.


Your shoes come off, then your socks and into the water you go. Following a school of fish, or maybe just the water’s flow when you step into the deep.

What do you think of this poem, prose, story, whatever?
I like this story because imagery is strong and the words you used cut right to the plot. I can tell you've done some good editing. I might suggest only a few things, and those are grammatical only.





Replace all ampersands (%26amp;) with the word 'and.' It smacks of amateurism. Do a spell check and then correct "with eye's as brown as your's" to read:





"with eyes as brown as yours." The words eyes and yours should not show possessive; they're merely in plural form.





Good job! You should continue writing.
Reply:Smart Kat,





Thanks for selecting my reply as best and giving it a four-star rating. I'll also look at your other poem you had mentioned in an e-mail--as soon as I can find it. Report It

Reply:This is a recurring theme I have nightmares about and I simply don't know if I could pick up the pieces as you apparently have done. I admire and respect your strength in the face of such an unfathomable loss. You are an incredible person! What a great role model you are to your daughter. =) Report It

Reply:Very good...Did you write this?
Reply:Oh my! That really got me. Good job.
Reply:its a story of the way we should all live our lives no fear because no matter what happens its for a reason there is no terrible accident waiting because nothing is terrible and autism might just be a better understanding then what wave lenghth we see things in there perception is much more in tuned then the rest
Reply:My opinion is that it is poetic prose, but that's not the important thing about it. It is sincere and you have found words that pretty well match your meaning and feelings, which are the important things about writing anything.
Reply:Well Kat, I don't think it was grammatical corrections you were after here, although you got some of that too!





Your story struck me on two levels. First, earlier this summer a little 3 year-old boy drowned in the Fox river nearby. I read about it in the newspaper and realized it was the same hyperactive little boy we had met at a recent minor league baseball game. He had walked away from his parents at the ballpark and was lost for 15 terrifying minutes. His mother was hysterical. Little more than a month later he apparently wandered into the river while his mother was briefly distracted... just as your story suggests.





Second, I have often wondered why these things happen? Why are some innocent lives lost before they've barely begun? I thought about this at the time of the drowning and now again as I read your story.





The only plausible answer is that there is more to the totality of a life than it's length and "measureable" accomplishments. There are also the unmeasureable accomplishments. That you and I write about these things, that others may be caused to think about their own purpose on earth, and that we understand and fear death a little less... these may have been the purpose of those two little boys, at the ballpark and on the swing.





Eventually, we will have made our lasting impressions on earth and then rest at peace and recapture our innocence... with whomever our brown-eyed father may be.



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