Not Getting Published, But My Words Are Being Framed

"I am not a writer. You will never see my name embossed on a fine leather book. The dream of being published does not exist for me..." Blah, blah, blah. You know how it goes. Those are the words you read everytime you visit my blog. Those words are me declaring my acceptance of any future defeat I should suffer in life if my dream of being published fails to become a reality. And while the acceptance of failure is always a jagged pill to swallow, it is a healthy dose of reality. Having one's name embossed on a fine leather book may be all the proof the world needs in order to acknowledge you as a REAL writer, but sometimes all a wannabe writer like myself needs is the acknowledgement of those closest to him to recognize that he has a little writing talent. Until 2 weeks ago, my family was anything but supportive of my writing. That was mostly because they read little to nothing from me and had little to no expectations of me. Which brings us back to sibling roles and the fact that as the baby of the family, I believed I would forever be labeled as the clown and the jock. However, I've recently broke free of that image and I'm about to be framed in a new light!

My sister is not the sentimental type. She is not one to hold a keepsake box full of childhood memories and past loves. (Oddly enough though, I do.) So when she came back from her honeymoon and told me she wanted the folded piece of paper I wrote my wedding toast on, I was more than surprised. "I want to frame it," she told me. Really? I still hadn't gotten over the shock that on her wedding day the only tear/s she shed is when I gave the Best Man toast. That alone says something about my speech, but wanting to frame it? Seriously? People frame fine art and they frame precious photos. They do so to capture time, emotion and beauty. I could stare for hours at Georges-Pierre Seurat's "A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte" painting and get lost in the tiny dots of oily paint, but who would want to stare at my ink-filled chicken scratch on boring and bland vanilla paper?

She doesn't realize that by me giving her this old, folded piece of paper that she's actually the one giving me the gift...or so I feel. She's making my writing frame worthy! No one has ever made my words frame worthy! To me, that's one of the greatest compliments I could ever receive. Instead of being published and my book sitting on a dusty shelf, I'm being hung on a pristine wall. And anyone who ever steps foot in her house will see my writing on the wall. In an odd way, she's turning my words into a piece of art. My canvas was ordinary paper and my paintbrush was a simple pen. Crude tools of an artist, but tools that somehow magically created art without even knowing it. It just goes to show you that you never know how your words can affect someone, for good or bad. Words are a powerful thing. And no three words have greater power than "I Love You." Of course expanding on those three words in my roundabout, beat around the bush style seem to be quite endearing as well.

Have you ever framed a letter you received or some words once said to you? Or have you ever been frame worthy yourself? Share your tale. I'm anxious to hear!