I offer this prompt in the spirit of poet Rosemary Wahtola Trommer, “You can only do this right. There are so many ways to do it right.” It helps so much to approach our first drafts with this attitude, and if you get stuck, here is another secret: simply lower your standards.

The prompt: Write a childhood memory without leaving the child’s experience of the moment.

Here is the prompt in video form, with some additional explanation.

As promised, here is my response to this prompt. I had a lot of fun with this one! Don’t concern yourself TOO much with following the rules. (I’m not sure if I totally did either.) Just do your best and see how it flows differently from the child viewpoint.

I am jumping on my bed. Scott is jumping on his bed. Freedom fills us with recklessness. We know we will get in trouble. Mom just warned us. But this joy, this FUN, is irresistable. We jump higher and higher. I jump across the canyon between our beds and land on his bed, while he does the same and lands on my bed. We did it! We do it again, each jumping back to our own bed again. And again. And again. The rhythm, the togetherness, the physical challenge of it…I never knew this was possible.

The rainy saturday dripping down our bedroom wiwndow is no longer a monster of boredom. We are laughing. What if we add our pillows way over there on the floor to expand our jumping terrain? Scott’s laugh is infectious. He boldly jumps to the newly placed pillow, falls, and stands again triumphant. I am so impressed. I ready myself to try this massive jump, when mom’s aproned figure appears in the doorway, tall and tight-lipped. We are caught in action. There is no denying.

We get the sternest warning that exists: a spanking with the wooden spoon. Mom goes back to the kitchen.

Alone again, we look at each other, quiet and still for a moment.

But maybe if we whisper and try not to laugh. The new challenge uplevels our game. We jump in a silent unity that is the most joy I have ever known in all my 6 years.