This year, when my mom asks me what I want for Christmas, I know exactly what I'm going to say: divinity. I've tried to make it before and it turned out dismally. But it tastes like Christmas to me, and she makes it well.

The gift I really want from my mother, though, is something impossible. I'd like an old, yellowed sheet of notepaper, torn from a notebook so the edges still dangle a bit. On it: the details of my birth, written the day I was born. I'd like to know both the story of the delivery and the way she felt, welcoming a third girl. Something my dad said, or my sisters, or my grandma.

This is an impossible gift because she didn't write that note. I'm not criticizing her—she's not a wordy kind of person, and I don't think people did that back then anyway. But I still wish she could give it to me.

Those kinds of desires are the motivation behind my Gift of Words Class at Big Picture Classes. I think that more people than you know wish for words—your words—and the class does that. It helps you write the things that might go unsaid (because, let's face it, it's easier to write some things than say them).

Check it out! It starts tomorrow!