That’s what my 5th grade friends said, over and over at the HCA Rocket Launch. Then – Whooosh! – a trail of smoke streaked up to the sky. And – Pop!- a little red parachute appeared. And – Slowly, slowly, slowly – down floated the rockets, one after another. Every single blast-off made me shiver a little, but I LOVED it!
Mom said when she writes a new story, it’s like building a rocket. You get it started and then keep working on it till it’s the best it can be. Stories sitting inside the computer are like the rockets sitting inside the 5th grade classroom (waiting for the rain to stop) – tons of fun to make, but if you don’t launch them, they’ll never go anywhere. Submitting them is the blast-off.
Mom says, “Get in the car.” I don’t do it the first time she says it, of course. I wait till she throws a treat into the back seat. Then I hop in, and we drive to the mailbox. Mom says, “3, 2, 1, blast off.” I wait for the smoke trail and the shivery-whooshy noise and the pop. The mailbox squeaks, and I think that’s it, but even without the smoke or the noise, Mom shivers just a little. I do too.
When she gets back in the car, Mom says, “It’s on its way” and “This one feels lucky.” and “Did you take the gum out of my pocketbook again!?”
Mom always hopes that her stories don’t slowly, slowly slowly come back rejected. Personally, I kind of enjoy those little red parachutes. So don’t tell Mom, but I wouldn’t mind seeing a few float back.