Rainbows in the rain…

At times, it seemed as if the rain would never stop in April, but it wasn’t the weather that made the world feel grey, it was the storm of complaints and anxiety surrounding me at work and home. Everyone seemed determined to focus on what was going wrong, and I was drowning in the static.

During the past month, I learned a hard truth which likely applies to everyone, someone else’s perspective cannot be changed but, as far as I’m concerned, I can rigorously protect my own. A recent break at work had me a captive audience to a coworker who was venting about everything they were fearing in the future and I felt that familiar tightness in my chest. The old me always used to chime in, thinking that participating in the misery at hand was somehow a form of empathy but, this time, I decided to do something different.

I remembered a piece of advice I read earlier that month which involved visualizing a personal “bubble” that would protect my energy. So, I continued to sit there and listen politely, but I mentally stepped away and imagined that the complaints I heard were water droplets hitting an invisible barrier, each one sliding off without affecting my inner core. Was it ever liberating! Later that day, I found a quieter space and took action, choosing to engage in something creative, like brainstorming a solution rather than focusing on the obstacle.

As I walked out into the April rain on the last day of the month, I didn’t care about the gloom. My spirit felt renewed and it was cathartic. I realized that just like the flowers blooming in the cold, I have the strength to thrive in my own sunshine, no matter what is going on around me; I can fill my own life with light and find rainbows in the rain.

From the Writer’s Workshop: Write a post in exactly twelve (12) sentences. Something you learned in April. What do you do when you’re around too much negativity?

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Streetlights and Summer Nights

We didn’t have much back then, but neither did anyone else, so it was our normal. In our largely Irish Catholic neighborhood, my best friend, Paddy, was usually by my side on most days where we could be found sitting on the apartment complex stoop. During the week, we both wore the same parochial school uniform that, before anything else, we rapidly changed out of when we walked through the door. Within the neighborhood circle of friends, we mostly had each other, and teamed up against the one or two mean kids who were part of the group. There was rarely any drama, summer was too short and every moment was a gift.

We ruled the sidewalk (or thought we did), which was the best part. Games like jump rope, hopscotch, hide and seek, plus card games like Old Maid were always on the daily play agenda. Those streetlights and summer nights evoke such a sense of nostalgia, a simpler time when the glow of a lamp signaled the end of a long day of play. How we wished that those lights would stay off longer as nighttime rolled in and allow us to enjoy the freedom of staying outside, watching fireflies and listening to the chirping of crickets.

Most summer days had Paddy and myself heading a block away to the candy store, always filling up on nickel candies to fuel our bike rides. Trips to the beach each week left us comparing our sunburns while sharing a Popsicle. Little did we know back then that we had all we needed. Summer was ours and it was sacred because it represented freedom from the nuns, endless school homework and the rigid school uniforms. We thought we were pretty important and made good use of every second until that dreaded, final, shout “Get inside, NOW”, ended the day and had us running like hell for home. Sleep couldn’t come fast enough as we lay in bed, already plotting the next day’s escape.

Those long-ago days outside were our refuge. They hid the painful secrets and silent sorrows within our own apartments. Sometimes, when we were outside, we would whisper about the shouting and arguing we heard through our neighboring walls late at night. When we were out there, the world belonged to us, shielded from the fear of those angry voices and the people behind them. The summer sun wrapped its arms around us and kept us safe. At least for a little while.

From the Writer’s Workshop: Write about your best friend from the old neighborhood.



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Memories and ashes…

The wall clock ticks faster as light recedes,
While shadows steal the colors of the fall.
I hold these memories like quiet seeds,
But feel my spirit fade beyond recall.


The fire burns to ashes in the grate;
No strength remains to build a higher spire.
I leave the world to its own final fate,
And close the gate upon the dying fire.

From the Writer’s Workshop: Write a post based on the word expire. Write a post in exactly 9 sentences.

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