Fall

"I've got it! I'll be fine!" I said pulling my arm away from both my husband and our friend. I was nearly 9 months pregnant and had stumbled over a frozen rut of snow and ice. "Seriously!" I said with a great deal of annoyance as the men grabbed everything they could possibly carry out of the trunk and had attempted to free the loaf of bread from my hands.


Finally they left me to fend for myself. Gracefully, I maneuvered over the ruts and into the clear path of the driveway. Not seeing a patch of ice, I slipped, my feet going out from under me and the weight of my body coming down hard.


As the men rushed to help me up, I shouted out, half in tears and half in laughter, "Don't worry! The bread broke my fall! But I think we'll need a new plan for lunch."


*** One Minute Writer ***

Wade

The warm waves washed over my feet and ankles. The salt stung the small sore on my foot. Looking over my shoulder, I saw Alex approaching timidly. Never before had he seen something so vast, something that reached to the ends of the Earth. "It's okay darling. Come wade with me," I beckoned as another ocean wave rushed over my feet.


*** One Word ***

The Palace

It was only a mud-thatched hut and a very small one at that. A great weeping willow held it in its soft green branches. The dry straw and earth colored walls looked dreary among the riot of colors: soft green grasses, wild flowers as far as one could see; the cold blue and white of a distant mountain. A dusty trail lead from the front door to the small creek bed not more than 20 yards away. An aged wheelbarrow sat to the left of the house half buried by the long branches of the weeping willow. At night, the soft glow of a fire could be seen through the open windows and merry laughter competed with the song of the cicadas.


Yes, it was small and quaint. If the saying is true that a man's home is his castle then my father's house was a palace and I, a Princess.

*** Daily Writing Practice ***

Disappointment

It seemed only a moment for the thick clouds to roll in. The dark color and sooty texture warned of dangers to come. They devoured wispy clouds that had stayed to frolic in the open blue pasture. Trees bent to their will. Leaves scattered like mice in a field. Lightning  struck out from the clouds and the ground shook in terror as the awesome power of mother nature was released. I stood at the door, my skirt flapping the wild beats of my heart.

Slowly, I crumpled the letter in my hand. "Dear Love," it said, "Meet me when the Night Jasmine blooms under the watchful eyes of Aphrodite. There I will make myself known to you on June 19th." 

In Aphrodite's presence stood a man drowning in disappointment as the rain washed over him. Clasping the knife in his hand more tightly, he stabbed it into the heart of an old oak tree. He wondered why his newest love had stayed away. He wondered if he was truly the man who could offer her salvation from the putrid world.

*** Daily Writing Practice ***

Train

I blew the whistle again. I just didn't understand what was so hard that these people just couldn't get it right. "No, no, no! You have to reward for the positive behavior. Keep the treats in your hand until she does the trick." Nods and agreement. Enthusiasm. But not the faintest sense of understanding.


I gave the treats out to the class again. "Let's try it again. This time remember, you are here because you wanted to train your dog. After class, in 10 minutes, if you've decided it would be better for someone else to do the work, I can give you information on private trainers. Ready. Tell your pooch to sit."


*** One Word ***

What's It Like?

It's uncertainty, desire, and hope being plucked from the soul one piece at a time. It's name-calling followed by a push, an accidental slap, some theft, and then cruelty just because they think they can. It's tears and threats, fearful apologies and turned backs that encourage anger and indignation to rise in a mother in defense of her cub. It's wishing it were another child, any other child, but never your own.

It's what it is like to watch your child fall victim to a bully and his friends.

*** Daily Writing Practice ***

Doubt

He woke up late. Well, later than usual anyway. It was a few minutes after 7 a.m. when he climbed into my bed. Jill was right behind him. Snuggling with both of them, I whispered, “I can’t believe you are almost a first grader!”

Joe lay perfectly still as if this was a new revelation for him. Then he spoke in a voice that sounded near tears, but also filled with joy. “I am so happy that there are only two more hours of school that I could cry.”

He didn’t cry, I don’t think. He bounced. He bounced through breakfast; through getting dressed and putting his shoes on. He bounced to his back pack and out the door. He didn’t walk to school. He half ran and half bounced. With a quick hug a block before the front door of the school, he ran down the sidewalk and into the building.

When I picked him up 2 and a half hours later, he nervously handed me his report card. “Does it say I know enough to be a first grader?” he asked me, doubt distorting the tone of his voice. I put off giving him an answer until we made it home. Once home, we snuggled up in my bed and went over it one line at a time.

“But did I learn enough?” he asked. I smiled at him and said I thought he had. Then I read him the brief note from his teacher which ended with ‘Good luck in first grade Joe!’ I thought he was going to bounce through the walls and maybe even the floor. I think it is safe to say he is very excited!

*** Daily Writing Practice ***