I used to; but now

One of the exercises that we’ve used in writing classes as a comparison-contrast is “I used to; but now.”
Our directions are: Consider where you used to be, what life used to be like, then look at life now. What images and ideas will help your readers to visualize and understand your points?
Sometimes the assignment is an essay; usually it is a poem so the writer focuses most on the comparison-contrast images.
It’s also a good writing exercise to begin a new year or a new semester.
This is a sample I wrote, to demonstrate the format for my writing classes.


I refused to look at the frog in biology;
But now I study Netter’s Atlas of Human Anatomy because people I love are in Gross Anatomy and because I need accurate anatomical detail when I kill people in the stories I am writing.

My fingers used to shy from the roots, from tulip bulbs with their snout poking toward the sky and their furze of root ends;
But now I shift bulbs from my warm palm to the cool October soil, sending them into darkness with a call to come back to light, bringing their color.

I used to say, “Ick,” to moldy leftovers, refuse to search inside the garbage disposal for that dropped fork, the ring, the dishcloth;
But now I think on it and do it anyway, because someone needs to.

I used to cringe at the thought of dirty diapers;
But now I routinely clean the anus of dogs and babies alike:
A natural exit hole, how much cleaner than the shreds of a bullet’s passing or the residue of someone’s hate.

I used to look at brown and see dirty: wash your hands, scrub the floor: clean your room;
Now I see the world: brown rice, sepia shadows, mocha skin tones, latte coffee, chocolate in twenty shades of glory.

I used to shudder at potatoes’ spindly sprouts, pushing into the air;
Now I muse that there’s something left to grow on:
Iris tubers, bleeding heart divisions, peony eyes, Idaho’s best in utero:
Rudely growing, aggressively colonizing where they will not, should not, must not.
They will not yield.

Maybe my eyes are less lid and more eyeball to see the unity of us all
Maybe, but I do not think so.

Each experience leaves its mark:
Discarded gum freckles the sidewalks; Scars slide across skin; Memories color the mind;
Emotions imprint our cells.

I think Life happens and Grace arrives.