Mummy to the rescue…

 

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The moon peered through the clouds and looked down with a sinister grin.  It was a cold and stormy night with a biting wind whistling through the trees on our street, ripping leaves and branches onto the sidewalk as we made our way. 

Nah.  It wasn’t, just wanted to grab your attention.

Actually, it was a pleasant Halloween night as we ventured out and headed to each home that looked promising for trick or treat goodies.  In tow was our oldest daughter, dressed as a scarecrow and her sister, all decked out as a mummy.  That costume took quite a while to put together as it involved cutting white sheets into strips that would be wound around her impatient and wiggly six-year-old body.  I must admit that I was quite proud of myself when all was done and wrapped. 

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My handiwork lasted until halfway down our street and slowly turned into un-mummification and a very unhappy, and unraveled, youngster.  What to do, what to do?  My attempt to share a silly mummy joke crashed and burned so we headed back home, tripping over the disintegrating costume with each step.  

Let’s face it, I think most mothers have a backup plan for costume emergencies and Halloween candy can be a great mediator while they work some frantic magic.  Fortunately, I still had an unused white sheet in reserve and quickly created…a Ghost.  Within fifteen minutes, we started the candy trek all over again and our daughter ended up with an admirable haul of treats.  For her, the best part was revisiting homes she previously stopped at…and no one recognized the little Ghost doing an encore candy run.

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All in all, a fun memory of simpler times when kids could be just that…kids!  And…the adults were in charge of the goody bag candy inspections, especially the Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups and Twix Candy Bars.   

 

workshop-button-1From Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop… A memorable Halloween costume.

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A rose, by any other name, might be a Mother…..

I’m an early riser; my sleep patterns have remained fairly altered since my mother lived here and I learned to then survive on maybe two, or three hours of rest a night. That hasn’t changed much for I am still awakened in the middle of the night from a noise in the house or the sound of someone yelling.

Who, or what, is behind the ruckus, it’s always the same…a ghost, a shadow of my mother, angry and scared, nothing more.

During her episodes of sundowning, I would try to affect some reason, some calming words to settle her down and put my arms around her to comfort her outbursts.  Nothing worked except for cookies; a sweet distraction from her, sometimes violent, episodes.  As she sat and munched away, I would always take the opportunity to try and tune-in to whatever channel her mind was on at that moment.  It was always the wrong one. She would promptly dismiss me with her usual, “who are you?” and my retreat out of her room could not be fast enough.

I went outside to have my morning coffee today, standing on the deck near some miniature roses given to me by my daughter Jill for Mother’s Day. One tiny red bloom emerged, holding a raindrop between its petals much like a mother holding a newborn child.

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When the sun eventually finds its way out of the cloud cover, that raindrop will disappear, leaving the rose-mother with empty arms.

Until it rains again, or the rose just withers away…..and dies.

 

workshop-button-1From Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop…Write about a time you thought there was a ghost.

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Not under control…

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We’re closing in on almost two years that our world has been held captive by a virus.  With the passing of each month, the rise and fall of the debates involved with controlling it are chaotic.  New infections and re-infections quash any hope of bringing it to an end.  There is a major “Covid-Crossroad” with people choosing to be vaccinated…or not.  Human accountability or reckless endangerment has become the underlying factor, taking on an overwhelming stance, given the personal decisions involved.

Once again, masks are re-appearing as an accessory of choice, even a demand, as we venture out in public.  Virus epidemics, in any size, shape, or form are nothing new to humanity.  We’ve dealt with them…and managed to overcome the gauntlet of infections.  No masks, sanitizers, shutdowns and obsessive fear were involved, common sense controlled each outbreak. 

Somehow, the operative word here is…control.  We are all at the mercy of both a political and medical hierarchy who continue to sidestep the facts surrounding this current virus and its increasing variants but have firmly grasped onto the stifling management of human lives which hang in the balance of this spreading plague.

Yes, I’m angry.  Life’s simple challenges of day-to-day survival have been irreparably impacted.  We take one or two steps forward only to turn around again and lose any progress made.  How many more businesses and livelihoods will suffer as each struggle to survive?  For those of us on the proverbial back nine of life, will this be our exit, stage left…leave in an orderly, normal, fashion, while keeping those masks on?

Sadly, what I envision is a permanency where this, and future, virus attacks are concerned.  We’ve become players in a well-choreographed master plan of control from various sources who may very well have the answers, yet choose to hide them, using same to their advantage, again and again.

 

workshop-button-1From Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop….Write a blog post inspired by the word: again

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