At last..

July 11, 2012 by 4 Comments

 

 

Traffic, toll booth, parking lot. 

Run!  

Smiles, hugs. 

My family.

At last.

 

Flicker of Inspiration Prompt #58: Eleven

 

Eleven.

Like the number. Just like the number, actually. Exactly, even. You might go so far as to say that the number (11, that is) is in fact the prompt. Because it is. That’s what’s going on.  Can you tell a story in 11 words? Can you tell 11 stories in one word? Can you tell a story using only words with 11 letters? Can you tell an 11 using only letters of word story?
Go with that first one. Tell a story using exactly 11 words

Here’s my story and I’m sticking to it!  My Florida family arrives early Friday morning.  It’s been eleven months and twenty-nine days since they were last here in New York.  My home is a hustle and bustle of activity as I get the guest room ready and stock the shelves and fridge full of everything my two Grandsons love.  I get to spoil them absolutely rotten for their entire visit.   At some point, I’ll sit back while my head explodes as all four of my Grandkids run everywhere, ask to be fed and insist that I go bowling with them. 

That’s my job and I do it rather well.

My hubs is just finishing some major Tree House construction in our backyard.  Unlike most of his projects, the cusswords during this one were kept to a minimum this time.  Almost.

That’s his job.  Our local Home Depot has given him a preferred parking space and they call our home if he doesn’t show up there once each week.

Right now I’m busy making two signs for the Tree House….

“No Girls Allowed” and “No Boys Allowed“. 

They can all fight it out.  That includes Grandpa.

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She waits..

July 2, 2012 by 5 Comments

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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Doorway…

June 3, 2012 by 11 Comments

 

Another night of unsettling screams.  Cursewords mixed with prayers spread throughout the darkness.  Any chance of sleep was fleeting, just like the memories escaping from the room down the hall.  It would go on for hours, frenetic energy, fueled by a demon who made her keep searching and held the person she once was…hostage. 

I stood outside the doorway to her room, waiting for that one right moment to enter, hoping she might remember, armed in case she didn’t.  Tonight, my weapon of choice was a plate with oatmeal cookies instead of the graham crackers that she hated.  For a moment, I was a little girl again, clutching a teddy bear for comfort,  wanting, needing a mother who wasn’t there.

 

 

 

Flicker of Inspiration Prompt #53: Pitch Perfect

This week your Flicker of Inspiration prompt is to give us a pitch. A perfect pitch. Think of the description on the back of your favorite novel, the words that make you buy that book for your Kindle, the short paragraphs that let you know you MUST read that book.

I worked cookies into my pitch because of the role they played when I was caregiver for my late mother, thus the name of my book, “Another cookie, please!”.   Just about every combative situation (and there were many) could be dealt with by distracting her with a cookie, preferably chocolate chip.  Once, I made the mistake of handing her graham crackers which she promptly flung back at me.   The crackers made it clear across the kitchen table.  She had a good arm.

 

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