by Audrey L. Barclay
Grandma sat staring into space, the evening paper dangling listlessly from her hand. Suddenly straightening in her chair she hurriedly re-read the item that had intrigued her, and seemed to reach a decision. This was her chance, and she was going to take it! She arose hastily and began the evening meal, her hands moving automatically, her mind considering ways and means. It was pure chance the meal was edible--certainly it was through no conscious effort on her part.
She had always wanted to write, but Grandma had no vision of herself as author of a world's best seller; she'd be content with a much lesser degree of fame. Rearing nine children had left little time for pursuing her dream, but it had supplied an abundance of interesting material. And now Brewster College was including creative writing in the evening curriculum. With but two teen-agers remaining at home there was no reason not to realize the fulfillment of her dream.
A bit of ribbing from the family was inevitable, but Grandma was smiling as she started off for her first class, a small granddaughter singing after her, "School Days, School Days . . .!"
Grandma walked up the steps of Durham Hall with mixed emotions. There was the thrill of anticipation, also the same sense of trepidation she remembered from her first day in school as a child. As she awaited her turn to register, she discovered the building was less glamorous than she had anticipated, although she had no clear-cut idea just what she had expected; certainly not this drab building. She tried to picture in her mind the long procession of young men and women who had walked its dimly lighted halls, and thought what interesting stories one might write about them.
At last the class was called to order, the roll was called, and Grandma was about to become a writer--she hoped! However, she soon discovered there was more to writing than simply putting words on paper, and was somewhat dismayed to learn there was a definite pattern to be followed when writing for publication. The assignments were not particularly hard had she been free to do them in her own way; the difficulty lay in trying to conform to that prescribed by the instructors, but she was determined to continue.
Grandma was overjoyed when finally assigned the project of doing a short story of salable caliber. It was then Fate dealt a tragic blow when two small grandchildren were left motherless and came into her home. The following eight years were a repetition of previous years.
Finally their father and a lovely new mother took the children into a new home, leaving Grandma once more with time on her hands. She returned to her dreams, enrolling in a correspondence school for a course in her favorite subject. Today she is having the time of her life!