Remember that freewrite prompt I talked about yesterday? Well, here’s mine:
Wait, what? Why am I on the top bunk of Grace’s bed? My finger is in my mouth! Ew, get it out! As I wipe spit onto my pillow, I notice something. My finger is the color of cocoa powder. Oh boy. My hair-it’s in tight, springy coils. Could it be? Am I in my three year old daughter’s body? So let’s see, am I still me?
Do I like eggs? “Yes!” my brain says, but who knows what my new taste buds would say.
Do I know how to work the washing machine? Well, yes, but how on earth will I be able to reach?
Do I enjoy reading and blogging? Yeah, but will my fingers know how to type? Will I be able to turn pages without tearing them?
Okay-so, I’m me. But I’m also Gracie. I better go get some milk, find a dress to wear, and then stand on the coffee table and belt out some songs.