A Paper Chatterbox

 I am linking up with The Lightning and the Lightning Bug for the

Flicker of Inspiration Prompt #46: The Way We Were

"Tell us about you. Write an old photograph in text form, where we can say,

"Oh! Gosh, it hardly looks like the person I know, and yet still so recognizable!" 

Tell us about the you that was and, in many ways, still is."

That's me. Little Sheri. Little Casual Sheri, circa 1980. Hands in the pockets of a favorite pair of jeans. Or maybe it was Mom's favorite pair of jeans for me. Hair playfully pulled back into what could be called horse-tails rather than pig or ponytails given the thickness of it. A big grin that was no doubt due to a special lunch of Ramen noodles and "red" Kool Aid followed by some Sesame Street on the television. It was the little things that made me happy. 

It still is. 

I am still very much this little girl. In my everyday jeans, with my notoriously thick hair and a playful spirit. Still finding it hard to take most things seriously. Still smiling when I have my favorite meal, though the menu has changed quite a bit. And still making you listen.

Little Sheri was a beloved and creative chatterbox. I say beloved in a semi-sarcastic tone. I am quite sure I annoyed more than a few souls with my endless tales including greats like, "Baby Beth Took the Chocolate Chip Cookie." I was always making up stories. My mind was a colorful dreamland of characters and scenarios. I was probably three or four years old in this picture, right around the time that I introduced my family to my imaginary friends, Noonie and Bernantha. Noonie lived behind the television and refused to put a coat on when he went out to get his mail from the mailbox. Bernantha had very long hair (probably due to my fascination with Crystal Gayle at the time) and that's all I remember about her. I didn't sit and have pretend tea with these characters - I was too busy creating a world for them to exist in. I loved my world. I loved rainbows and music and story time at the library. I lived without fear and I loved my home.

I remain a storyteller, though most of my material has changed. I'm no longer tugging at the hem of your shirt, bending your ear with tall tales about dolls until you ask me to kindly go take my nap. Instead, I pour my overflowing nonsense into my blog or facebook statuses or tweets. I may not be speaking about Noonie's afternoon stroll but most likely writing about some mundane trip to WalMart or why I intend to clothesline my neighbor's prick son. To keep my silly "Little Sheri" side fresh and satisfied I write children's books. Sure, they  haven't been published yet but it doesn't stop me from sending them out over and over again. I am a mental chatterbox to the core. Rhymes and sentences pop into my head and I just have to write them down until I know where they're supposed to go. And I always find a home for them. I only wish I could have written down the stories I harbored when I was three.

Thirty two years may have passed but I'm still Little Casual Sheri. Still a bit rough around the edges. Still a spitfire. Still a lover of rainbows and music and the home that I've now created for myself. A chatterbox on paper, making her presence known. Forever in blue jeans - whether the world likes it or not.