Today is a special day for the blog. Today is the four-year anniversary for Come and Go. For those of you who recently discovered my blog, it wasn’t always called Come and Go. When I first made this blog, it was simply…Nick’s Writing Blog (with some photography).
The idea stayed the same over the years, but as time went by, and as I grew as a writer, I learned that I wanted to not just showcase my writing, but showcase everyone else’s writing too.
Inspiration Behind Come and Go
The name Come and Go has a couple meanings behind it. The first is that it comes from one of my favorite poems, which happens to be tattooed on my arm: The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T.S. Eliot. This poem was a huge influence for me. The haunted nature completely captivated me and inspired me to pursue English.
The other meaning behind the name is inspired by my love for flash fiction. I’ve taken multiple classes that covered all kinds of very short stories. I loved the idea of taking a story and breaking it down to its bare essentials.
I wanted my blog to be easy for anyone to read anywhere while leaving the same impact as a twenty-plus-page story. I want you all to come and go as you please, whether you’re reading my work, other writers’ work, or submitting your own.
Even that wasn’t enough for me. I realized this year that I should also be showcasing what I’m reading because it often sparks the ideas behind my story. I created the Books of the Month section so you could also see where my stories come from.
And then I created an Instagram account for you to follow so you can get an even closer look into my writing process. I’m honestly surprised by how much I’ve done this past year and I love every second of it.
I’m Beyond Thankful
It’s still hard to believe after all these years that there are still some people from day one who still like and follow my posts. I haven’t always been consistent with the blog, but there are a few of you who’ve stuck by and kept me going.
There have been times where it was hard to come up with original ideas, convince myself they were good enough, and go out of my way to post them. These past four years have been incredibly busy, and only seeming to get busier.
The difference, though, is that I’m finally getting my shit together, and a big reason why is my girlfriend for always looking out for me. She’s been a huge motivation and also the inspiration behind some of these new changes — like the Instagram account.
This year has also been the best year in terms of views, likes, comments, and visitors — already surpassing last year’s numbers. I’m by no means bragging because the numbers themselves aren’t all that great compared to some of the other blogs I follow, but you all taking the time to visit my blog and leave amazing feedback each week really makes me feel special, and I never expected this when I first started the blog.
I’ve been saving this flash fiction story for a little while now. I’ve been looking at it for a while now, making changes here and there, and I feel really good about it. Although this is a fiction piece, it does hit close to home, so sharing this with you all is like sharing a piece of me as well, which I don’t typically do.
I really hope you guys enjoy this story and I really hope you all keep coming back and give me feedback and submit your own stories and follow me on Instagram at comeandgo_writing and click the affiliate links I’m sure you noticed on my Books of the Month page and know that I’m not just trying to sell you stuff, but I’m hoping you find each book as inspiring as I do. Thank you again for making these four years so great!
Runs in the Family
We never understood why he always felt the need to go into such detail when describing he simplest of things. The doctors told us it could be a sign of autism, but we know that’s not true; he’s just quirky. Everyone’s always so quick to judge. He’s a good kid who makes us laugh.
Here’s an example: We were going to the zoo because he loves animals. He found a field guide in the school library and fell in love with it immediately so he renewed it over and over again for the entire year because we couldn’t find the book anywhere else. You have to understand that this was back when computers were just becoming mainstream. We didn’t have one yet so we couldn’t just look up where the book was or what bookstore had it in stock and we weren’t going to go to the other end of the earth looking for it because these passions of his come and go so quickly. We think the joy of the book comes from having to renew it every two weeks; the possibility of returning it and someone else checking it out and falling in love with it as much as he did terrified and motivated him to keep going to the library, which we thought was good for a boy his age, even if it was a little obsessive.
“Are you sure you don’t want to try the other animal books?” the librarian asked.
“I’m sure. The other books don’t show the maps of where you can find each animal, which is the best part. New York only has a few poisonous snakes and they live up north, but it’s good to know in case me and my family ever go on a trip because I’ll know to avoid swamps where these snakes called copperheads can be found. If they bite me, I’d have to go to the hospital because my immune system is not as strong as a grown ups. You would also have to go to the hospital because you’re old and the book says young children and older people are more likely to die from a copperhead bite, even though they’re far from the most deadly snake in the world, which is the black mamba.”
The only reason we know this story is because he told us the same story verbatim when he got home from school before we could ask him how his day was. He started, “I don’t understand the librarian. You’d think she’d get that I don’t want to read anything else except this book, but she always insists on asking if I would like to try the other animal books.” We wish he would try other books too, but we’re just glad he’s passionate about something.
It actually inspired us to take him to the zoo because we knew he would bring his guidebook and try to identify each animal without looking at the signs or letting us tell him what they were. We saw all the basics like the lions and giraffes and tigers and hippos, but we thought we could really put him to the test by taking him to the bird and butterfly exhibits where he would have to really work at figuring out which animal was which. He absolutely loved it and we were pretty surprised he was able to guess a lot of the birds right without even looking at the pages in his favorite field journal.
After school the next day, he asked us if he talked too much because everyone in school was giggling when he told the story of how he saw all the animals and went to all the nice exhibits with the birds and butterflies and was able to guess every single animal without having to look once at the field guide that everyone, we guess, knew about because they must have known he took out the same book every single time they went to the library. We said that it’s a good thing he has a lot to say because it means he’s always thinking and that he’s not afraid to speak what’s on his mind, and that if they were his true friends, they would feel obligated to be patient and listen to the nice stories he has to tell; however, if they weren’t paying attention and giggling and making jokes, he shouldn’t be concerned with how they feel because they clearly weren’t concerned with how he felt. “What could I do to make them stop?” he asked.
We were now in a dilemma because the obvious answer was to tell him to talk less, but that would make him feel like what he was saying wasn’t interesting and that wasn’t the case at all; everything he said was important and he didn’t have too many friends, so telling him to stop talking as much was essentially telling him to give up, which would make us the worst parents in the world. We thought about what the doctor said about children with autism struggling to communicate effectively, but we couldn’t tell him he had autism because it wasn’t actually confirmed and then he would grow up knowing there was something wrong with him. “Everyone in my family talks a lot,” I said. “It runs in the family.”