I remember exactly what it was that made me fall in love with writing. It was my brother's fault.

 

My older brother, Bob, was already in the second grade and he never let an opportunity past without rubbing it in that he was so much smarter than me.  After all, I was only in Kindergarten. He had learned letters and could write sentences so perfectly that he could even write a story that he could read to me over and over and over and... I couldn't take another reading. Sure, I loved his story the first few times. It was about the mean king that Bob bopped on the head and then the country wanted him to be king. Wow. I was impressed with his story. I felt like my brother would be the best story teller in all the world. Then Bob said something that could not be allowed.

 

"Too bad" he said, with a smirk on his face. "You probably will never be able to write a story as good as this one."

 

My destiny was set in stone at that moment. I would write a better story and I would do it right now. So I made up a story and asked Bob if he would write the words on paper for me, since I didn't know how to write yet.

 

"Why would I do that? Learn to write your own stories when you are older."

 

So I went to my mother to get help. She thought the story I made up was cute but she was too busy doing laundry and cooking dinner to be able to help me.

 

I stewed all night about how I could get my story on paper and finally decided to ask my kindergarten teacher, Miss Rose, if she could teach me to write.

 

"Don't be in such a hurry." she said.  When you get out of Kindergarten then your teachers will start helping you learn to write. Until then," She smiled a smile that will forever be my memory of Miss Rose. "If you will tell me the story I will write the story down for you."

 

So I told her my story about how all birds used to be white until one of the birds wanted to fly higher than any bird had ever flown. He flew so high that his wings touched the rainbow and his feathers turned to every color he touched. The other birds liked his new colors so much that they also flew up and touched the rainbow, each one touching different colors. Then there were Robins, and Peacocks, and Parrots and every other kind of bird that we have now. Not only did the birds live happily ever after, but so do we. After all, we get to enjoy all the beautiful birds.

 

Miss Rose wrote every word and then smiled another Miss Rose smile.

 

"This is a wonderful story. Don't stop using your imagination like this. Someday you will be a wonderful writer."

 

So, my brother got me started but Miss Rose, you are the reason I still write.