Tradition

It has been almost exactly one year since I've posted here. It's hard for me to believe how time has gone by so quickly. I just turned 50. An entirely new age group. I'm still continuing to deal with how this happened and what it means. 

In the meantime I am trying to get back to writing more, which means blogging more, and one of the best things I ever did, back in the day, was start doing 100 Word Challenge. So, I am going to make a commitment to do this each week.

You can view other responses and the prompt here.

This week's word is "tradition." 

to all a good night

a Santa’s sled

glows red

from the top

of a mountain

inside a metal container.

brown cardboard boxes,

flaps worn, tape exhausted

“books” scrawled in uneven hand.

some neglected, few unread.

the frame of a bed,

source of

an argument

with my mother.

a nod to our only tradition.

clear tape twinkles in the darkness,

slashes of marker advise:

donate, keep, or family piece.

disassembled evergreen; family in pieces.

inside the box

that mountain left undisturbed.

a reprieve from the task at hand.

door rattles shut, money flutters out of my purse

down

            the gravel drive

and out of sight.

Enough about me...

Today's post is my entry into this week's 100 Word Challenge, hosted by Velvet Verbosity. The 100 Word Challenge is an exercise in which we write exactly 100 words in response to the weekly prompt word.

Click the link to read the other entries-good stuff over there! This week's prompt word is: tremble.

Each week I talk, I write, I photograph. I capture moments in time that will be forgotten as soon as the papers, tossed in a corner and bound for recycling.

Capturing that one moment of small town life, it's amazing. For me, getting to tell someone's story is an honor.

A cancer survivor, wounded veterans cycling across the state, an artist with disabilities showing his work in a local exhibit. This was my week.

I am always humbled by the task of putting what I feel into words. I tremble in anticipation of the Wednesday delivery. It's my judgment day.

Release

Today's post is my entry into this week's 100 Word Challenge, hosted by Velvet Verbosity. The 100 Word Challenge is an exercise in which we write exactly 100 words in response to the weekly prompt word. Click the link to read the other entries–good stuff over there!

This week's prompt was inspired by last week's advice from Kurt Vonnegut and continues the thought of finding your voice.

“Every character should want something. Even if it is just a glass of water."
 

This week's post takes the same scene as before and shows it from another character's perspective. I hope I've captured that in this post.

Pacing, he wondered how long it would last. She was terrified of being restrained in any way. He couldn't stop thinking of the torture he knew she felt.

But she had to learn.

He stood watch outside the door all night, heard her struggle as she drifted in and out of awareness. If only she would relax and calm down. Sunlight flooded the kitchen. He checked his watch.

It was finally quiet, wind chimes playing in the breeze. His hand was hovering over the doorknob when he heard her whimper. He walked away, shaking his head.

She had to learn.

Cancer, You Bitch

So of course I missed the deadline for posting in this week's 100 Word Challenge. Mainly because I chose to write about something extremely close and personal to me and I have fussed and fawned and worried about the words, each one chosen with meaning. When it came right down to it, I just couldn't post it at the time. But here it is in a very raw form.

Thinking of her I see her as she's always been; calm, serene, beautifully confident and quiet. She flashes that Mona Lisa smile, leaving you to wonder. She is a woman who was born to be a mother. She is a teacher and student, a storyteller and listener.

I am sure she has faults, we all do don't we? But she far surpasses any attempt I've ever made at being a good human being. Now, she wages war with her own body. War from which I know she will return victorious. Stronger than ever. She will fight with a strength and calmness that ever eludes me.

Recently I found out that a friend, not one I am extremely close to (just because of circumstance and geography) but nevertheless one who will always hold a very, very special place in my heart, is facing some health issues. She's in her early 40's, like me, and has two beautiful young girls, unlike me. She and her husband have been together basically since college. A couple weeks ago I was shocked and saddened to hear the news that she had cancer.

I still remember the first time I met her, and I remember thinking that she was everything I aspired to be. Calm, rational, a skilled writer, a talented artist, accepting of everyone, patient and understanding. We had always been "friends of friends" you know how that is? How your friends that you are close to have other circles of friends. You see them all the time at group things, but don't really contact them except through the mutual friends. Anyway, this had been our relationship. One day, I just called her up and asked if she'd go to dinner and talk with me one night.

So we did and ended up laughing, enjoying, and really getting to know each other. She laughed when she told me that she thought I could be her long lost sister. We had so many of the same hang-ups, insecurities, loves, passions and interests. However, I left the table that night thinking how I could only aspire to be who she was. To me, she was so.... Kimberly. Zen. Serene. Loving. Accepting.

When I think of that damned cancer inside her, it makes me furious; hot, wet tears come rolling down my face. Damned. Cancer. Why do you pick on someone who brings so much love and light into the world? Why can't you go chew up and spit out someone who is dead inside, someone who is dark inside, someone who has nothing to give to anyone.

So I dedicate a song today (stealing my friend Lance's schtick). If it were Kimberly's she might pick something soothing and calm. But that's not me. I heard this on the radio last night and decided it was perfect. Campy. Angry. Angsty. And the guys look like we all looked when we met in the mid-90's.

Yes, I dedicate my song to Cancer. I hate you. I hate everything about you. I wish you would vanish forever and stop hurting the people we love. Please enjoy Ugly Kid Joe hating everything about Cancer. And blow up dolls.
We love you, Kimmy!

Split Apart

Today's post is my entry into this week's 100 Word Challenge, hosted by Velvet Verbosity. The 100 Word Challenge is an exercise in which we write exactly 100 words in response to the weekly prompt word. Click the link to read the other entries–good stuff over there!

This week's prompt was “split”.

Doesn't she know her words cause me pain? Real, true, stabbing icy pain in the pit of my stomach. If she did, would she cast them so carelessly? Purposely? I feel my heart deflate as my eyes fill with hot, stinging tears. Suddenly, the realization hits me and I feel like I've been split apart by talons in my soft underbelly. 

What I want to say I cannot. Instead, I simply say quietly, “I feel so sorry for you. I really do." 

She is missing out on the real person I am by always regretting the perfect person I'm not.

The Swing

Today's post is my entry into this week's 100 Word Challenge, hosted by Velvet Verbosity. The 100 Word Challenge is an exercise in which we write exactly 100 words in response to the weekly prompt word. Click the link to read the other entries–good stuff over there! 

This week's prompt was "resistance". 

She wrapped her legs around the rope and settled herself on the round seat. Her feet barely touched the ground as she pushed back and launched herself. The light breeze offered no resistance and she flew, high and long, over the green summer lawn.

Suddenly life was still for a moment. Caught in that millisecond of hangtime between flying up and falling down. The feeling made her giddy and lightheaded, then made her stomach lurch as she began the inevitable descent. 

Years later she would remember that feeling, and wonder how to capture that perfect balance between flying and falling.

Birth Order

Today's post is my entry into this week's 100 Word Challenge, hosted by Velvet Verbosity. The 100 Word Challenge is an exercise in which we write exactly 100 words in response to the weekly prompt word. Click the link to read the other entries–good stuff over there! 

This week's prompt was "family". 

I was always good, completely easy, straight A's in school, home by curfew. Never dated, partied or went to dances. Attended every church youth event. Worst I ever did was mouth off.

Meanwhile, my younger brother smoked, drank, and had an out of control temper. Especially toward my mother.He consistently skipped school and dropped out at 17.

He got a car when he was 13.  

Me? I was licensed, 16, no car of my own.

Yes, he was the golden boy, still is.

Now? He's “reformed” and in church. 

Me? I'm an athiest. 

Family. Who can figure it out?

Unrelenting

Today's post is my entry into this week's 100 Word Challenge hosted by Velvet Verbosity. The 100 Word Challenge is an exercise in which we write exactly 100 words in response to the weekly prompt word. Click the link to read the other entries–good stuff over there! 

This week's prompt was "bathed". 

“How do you like your eggs?” he asked, smiling at her sleepy face. The kitchen was bathed in sunlight and she squinted up at the window, wide and high off the ground. 

“What time is it?” she queried, dodging a kiss and moving toward the coffee pot. He wrapped his arms around her waist pulling her toward him and kissing the back of her head. 

“Don't worry about the time.” he whispered in her ear, holding her close. “We have all day.”

“Well maybe you do,” she said, straining against his firm embrace,“but I have things to do today.”