Mac's Musings

I love writing. I don't get to write nearly as much as I'd like to, but I absolutely love it. Anyone who's met me, and also read anything I've written, would probably testify that I write better than I speak. It's much more liberating, especially being freed from speech impediments and pronunciation somersaults. I have been working on a few things, which I hope I'll get to share in time, but I recently thought to try and improve myself. So I entered a short story contest. It proved to be much more challenging than I thought, especially as it was exactly what it said it was, SHORT. 300 words short! Anyway, faced with a busy schedule, an impossible timeline and the inconvenient and almost diabolic paralysis of writers block, I turned to real life to inspire what would prove to be halting baby steps in the turbulent waters of the author. Is it autobiographical? Hehe, wouldn't you wish. It's fiction, so please don't start calling to express your

He was a giant of a man, even back then in his 20’s. I was in my early teens, still reveling in the fact I was a ‘senior boy’ and no longer wore shorts to school. I met him when he accompanied my favorite uncle on a break from medical school. Everyone has a favorite uncle/aunt, don’t they? Usually either one closest to their age and thus is the most relatable, or the one who brings the best gifts… So, he and my uncle were classmates and spent a holiday with us, and that was the beginning. He very quickly became a member of the family in his own right, his quick wit and warm, genuine, hearty laughter endearing him to everybody. He exuded a sincerity that was rare and refreshing, without a hint of guile or subterfuge. He quickly became the big brother I’d always wanted. Always seemed to know the right thing to say, laughed so hard at my jokes I wondered if I was actually that funny, lifted me up when I fell, held me down when I threatened to get too big for my own good,