She waits..

Love once lived here within these walls, now they are barren guardians of lost dreams.  Roses bloomed along with the laughter of children playing in the yard.  The aroma of freshly baked bread drifted through rooms, wrapping the house in a blanket of comfort.  As darkness fell, she would sit by her favorite window that faced the sea, cradling her youngest child.  She watched the endless horizon and hoped that one more sunset might bring him home..again.

But, that was so long ago, before she lost count of the days and endless nights.  Before she realized that he would never return.  Her children grew and the roses slowly withered while silence danced in and out of the trees.  Her tears mixed with the pounding spray from the ocean.

Some say she walks the halls still.  Her shadow is often seen, waiting by the upstairs window, in this house where love once lived..and hope died.

 

 

Flicker of Inspiration #57: Speed Photo Prompt and Linkup

This week we’re bringing you another speed prompt, but this one has a twist. This time we’re mashing up a photo with speed. We want you to look at the photo. Let it take you somewhere. Let it tell you its story. Then, for ten solid minutes, write down words inspired by that photo. You can give us fiction, non-fiction, or poetry. Whatever the picture stirs within you.

 

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Hope…like a Butterfly

Hope departed when she died.  I often talk about it being the second time she left me…without saying good-bye.

Throughout her illness, I held out the hope that she might remember.  She rarely did.  Like a butterfly struggling to break free from its cocoon, her memories darted in and out of the sunlight, fought against the darkness of every night, and me.

Still, there was always that chance she might turn her head and recognize that I was part of her life.  Or had been, once.

It was overwhelming, at times a helpless feeling, as I stood  in the shadows of that familiar stranger wanting to become the missing piece of her puzzle of forgetfulness.  A puzzle left scattered, never to be completed.

Hope, for me, departed on June 29th, 2006, on the wings of a butterfly who never looked back, taking with it many desires and needs and dreams.  While hope can carry on its back an entire soul, lifting up sorrow and bringing back joy, it also takes many forms, depending on your perspective; wildly positive or very reserved, almost cautious. Most of us hope for better days, health, happiness or just some release of a heavy burden.  For me, it was the hope that my late mother would remember something beyond the walls of what Alzheimer’s allowed.  I kept hoping she would remember…me.  

 

When she passed away, that hope went along with her.   

 

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Hannah

 

Black, curly madness

waiting at the door,

when she became too excited,

she peed on the floor.

 

Unconditional love and licks

were her claim to fame.

The Festival of Lights

helped create her name.

 

Always ready for treats

and as sly as a fox,

except when she explored

the cat’s litter box.

 

A constant companion

for two little boys,

her bark would sound

with the tiniest noise.

 

With passing years

her sparkle faded,

her steps grew slower

her family waited.

 

One last hug,

loving touches, gentle words,

a final breath

is softly heard.

 

 

Good-bye,  sweet Hannah

When family lives miles apart, it’s so difficult to lend support when hurt comes knocking at their door.  Today was one of those times.  My oldest daughter and her family had to put their beloved dog Hannah to sleep.   Most of us who are animal lovers have been through this and I don’t have to detail how painful it is to say farewell to a special pet.  Aside from early morning phone calls and a sharing of tears, I had nothing else to offer.  Just this silly but heartfelt little poem.

I nicknamed Hannah “Banana Dog” because, for some odd reason, when I visited and called out that name she went absolutely bonkers, running to greet me and tearing through the house like a lunatic before calming down.   I also nicknamed her “CSE” for the times she pillaged the cat’s litter box.  Don’t expect me to explain, use your imagination.

My daughter and her husband got Hannah shortly after they moved to Florida, several years ago.  It was during the holidays, close to Hanukkah, and both were missing their New York families when they happened upon a little black ball of excitement and decided to take her home. 

They gave Hannah a wonderful life and she blessed them in return by being an exceptional dog. 

Except for the litter box fetish.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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