Highs and Lows

Highs and Lows

You crash every party

Your body not present

But your aura hovers, waiting

And then it starts

One memory begets another

Each one adding their part

In their story of you

Soon all are are laughing

Myself included

‘Til I drive home, alone

Lost for a little while

 

Weekend Writing Prompt #127 – What the Fork is This?

A word prompt to get your creativity flowing this weekend.  How you use the prompt is up to you.  Write a piece of flash fiction, a poem, a chapter for your novel…anything you like.  Or take the challenge below – there are no prizes – it’s not a competition but rather a fun writing exercise.  If you want to share what you come up with, please leave a link to it in the comments.

Word Prompt

Replace

Challenge

I’ve been doing these challenges for a good while (Thanks, Sammi, for creating and maintaining it) and never, ever put a title on my whatevs. I thought the total word count had to include the title but, after noting quite a few who do, including our facilitator, I decided, well, hell… let’s do it!

What the Fork is This?

I walk around my home and notice there are missing pieces everywhere. Incomplete sets: cutlery, dishes, glassware. Some breakage happens over time; it’s to be expected.

Yet, somehow cutlery that doesn’t belong here is lying in my drawer. Of course no child of mine left any of my good forks at work and took another in its stead. No, I don’t know what I am talking about. What’s the big deal? The big deal is, the cheap shit you brought back does not replace the good stuff I own.

What’s Left – Friday Fictioneers

It’s a glorious Wednesday out there, I’m not working and I’m on slo-mo. Zeke is not pleased with me so before he decides I am no longer his buddy, I better send this out into the ether, grab his leash and get a move on before the sun disappears!  Thanks always to Rochelle for hosting this weekly party and thank you to Ted Strutz for sending most of us down memory lane. (I assume, which is not smart, but I never claimed to be.)

©Ted Strutz

Click me! Click me!

 

What’s Left

I’ve since gone digital, but I still prefer the old pictures. In all their glorious mess. You know what I mean, don’t you?

Most of us have them. Boxes of old photographs. I have Dad’s, with so few pictures of him as a kid. My aunt has my grandmother’s. Mom has “gifted’ me with hers, as she wants me to scan each one into digital form ~ I must start before it’s too late. And I have my own. Filled with memories, still to be sorted.

In all those boxes, dates and names are a scarcity.

And this is what’s left.

Weekend Writing Prompt #126 – Haven

A word prompt to get your creativity flowing this weekend.  How you use the prompt is up to you.  Write a piece of flash fiction, a poem, a chapter for your novel…anything you like.  Or take the challenge below – there are no prizes – it’s not a competition but rather a fun writing exercise.  If you want to share what you come up with, please leave a link to it in the comments.

 

 

They make you cry

They make you laugh

They drive you crazy

 

No longer babies

Soon, they’ll fly away

 

Still, you hope they know

 

With you,

They’ll always find

A safe haven

 

 

Where’s Your Faith? – Crimson’s Creative Challenge#47

It’s Thursday. And I’m inspired to join in Crispina’s weekly challenge. Because, why not?

Where’s Your Faith?

Do you attend church?

No. I only go to weddings, funerals and the occasional baptism. Oh, and I love to visit churches when I go sightseeing. Does that count?

Not really. So, why don’t you go?

I don’t feel the need. Mom insisted we do our First Communion and Confirmation, that’s it. Felt that was enough to take care of her Catholic duties. Was never much for church going herself.

Why is that?

I think she’d had her fill with the nuns back in the day. They were not, what one would say, pleasant as teachers. She lived in small villages with one school, comprising of one class, taking care of grades 1 to 8. They were a nasty and judgmental lot.

I, myself only had my boys baptised. I guess I’m even more of a hypocrite.

Think you’ll ever start?

Nah. Don’t need a building to have faith.

Family Dynamic – Friday Fictioneers

Good Wednesday morning!  It’s Hump Day! Or, for about 50-60 of us (give or take) it’s Friday Fictioneers time. And would you look at that? Rochelle has chosen my picture this week! I had a bazillion stories to go with this one and yet, none of them made it to the page, so to speak.  Maybe I’ll have to double-dip. Maybe not. We’ll see 😉 Maybe you have an idea on a story that would go with this picture. Why don’t you try your hand and add your link by clicking the frog below. Not sure how it works? Click on Rochelle’s name and find the rules and regs. G’head, you know you wanna…

Click me to play!

Family Dynamic

How could one feel so alone within such a close family?  Sure, they did lots of activities together but he felt he had no special place within the family dynamic.

Peter had Mom.  She favoured him, he was sure of it. When push came to shove, she always took Peter’s side, no matter what.

Paula had Dad. He protected her, defended her and gave her treats whenever she was sad.  She was Daddy’s little girl and while he understood it, he also resented it.

No matter how hard he tried, Patrick’s deeds went less noticed.

Where did that leave him?

 

For Abuelita – Friday Fictioneers

Good Wednesday morning, my peeps. The leader of this band of misfits, Rochelle, has borrowed one of my very own pictures this week. This lovely restaurant, called Ta Chido (That’s Cool 😉 ) in the Mile End area of Montreal is where my buddy, Julie, and I ended up when we were on a Cubano Sandwich Search. We had given up on that quest and landed in this Mexican Snack-Bar, which turned out quite delightful.

Should you be tempted to come up with a 100-word story for this pic, just click on the frog below and add your link!

G’head, click me!

For Abuelita

Consuela stood back and admired her handiwork.  The colours were bright and there were bits and pieces of home, reminding her of all the stories her Abuelita Rosaria told her.  Her customers loved it, calling it kitschy yet charming.

“Go, Niña. Leave this dead-end town and start anew somewhere else. There is nothing for you and your talents here.”

“I can’t leave you, Abuelita!”

“I am an old woman. I have done what I was meant to. You, on the other hand, are being stifled here.”

Misty-eyed with memories, she smiled, determined to live her dream, just like she promised.