cycle

welcome, readers & writers! thank you for your contributions and comments last week. it gives me comfort to traverse the rough terrain of this life together.

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this week's photo prompt bids welcome to spring. short story, poem or creative non-fiction ~ writers, come write with me... click on comments below to share. readers, your comments are also most welcome. here's my spin (ha!) on the photo:

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Peter pedaled patiently up and down the length of his street, from second avenue all the way to fifty-first, where Highway 33 made it impossible for him to cross. He made the loop a dozen times a day now, despite the fact that Evie worried about him. Oh, she clucked on about how his new recumbent bicycle was too low, how it was barely taller than their grandson's tricycle, how he was going to get rolled over one day by a harried mother in a minivan or a businessman on his blue-tooth, blazing off to a meeting. Peter just smiled and kissed her forehead and promised her again that he was watching, that he wasn't a toddler on the loose, but a bonafide grown-up.  Eighty years old now. His eyesight was great. His scar was healing.  He'd tossed that blasted heart pillow out with the trash last week. He was determined not to waste a moment of the time that his insurance company and his doctor's Harvard degree had bestowed upon him. Excercise. Rest. Low sodium diet. Hell, if he didn't have dentures now he'd even be up for flossing. Twice a day. That's how serious he was about this. 

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Evie didn't know it yet, but he had a mind to ride in the Senior Sprint at the end of the summer. Sixty miles. It would suck up a lot of time to get ready for a race like that. Time away from his wife. Time not spent with his grandkids. But, and he didn't know how to explain this to them without sounding like a simpering school girl, riding his bike made him feel like a boy again. With the wind in his ears anyway, his hearing loss didn't matter, didn't even exist. When he rode past honeysuckle trees and lilac bushes, when the wind blew his hair back off his forehead, when he pumped his legs hard and threw them back for a quick stop, he was ten again. At the beginning of the long, winding tunnel and not heading for that confounded light. On his bike the world was new and he had thousands of days left to enjoy it.  

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heartbreak

welcome, readers & writers.

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today my heart is heavy with the heartbreak of the planet... for our world neighbors in Japan, for the unrest across the middle east, for the struggles that folks in our own country are facing each day. so let's write about it ~ poems, stories or reflections of solidarity and hope. click on comments below to join me. also, in case you're thinking of making a donation for relief efforts in Japan but don't know where, here's a link to an organization we really trust: erd (Episcopal Relief & Development).

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the world has shifted on its axis, so they say

how can it not, under the monstrous burden of sorrow it bears?

the earth falters and buckles 

oceans of salty tears storm the shore, innocent and clumsy  

how can water bend steel? break life? 

search. mourn. remove rubble. be. die inside. rest. be again. emerge. try.

the only hope i see today is the mystery of heaven

an island of peace in a golden sea of forever

where they wait, in the know

where they wait with love

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frisson

welcome, readers & writers! 

my new posting schedule is simple:  mondays. do feel free to come back through the week and read what others have written, or to add another installment to your story, poem or creative non-fiction reflection on the photo :) over the summer i should be able to pick it up again, but for now i'm chained to my computer in other ways that don't involve creative writing - boo hoo!!! i am excited, however, about finally becoming an elementary school teacher hopefully sometime in the near future.

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i'm thrilled today to welcome a guest photographer and writer, Mr. Chuck Galle. Chuck, an actor and writer, has been a steady contributor to write away every day, and i'm glad to call him my writing friend. ahhh the wonder of the internet to be able to introduce friends across thousands of miles! Chuck has a book out, Stories I Never Told My Daughter which, at this very moment is winging its way from amazon to my house in Texas.  it's been in my shopping cart for a few months now, and i can't wait to read it, finally!! Click here to visit Chuck's blog & website. thank you, Chuck, for such a lovely and intriguing photo and for it's written companion. I'll be back later in the week to write about the photo myself - I'm already feeling inspired! see below for Chuck's spin on his photo:

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So, what else would you do with a camera in hand, waiting for someone, wandering around in the atrium of the Institute of Contemporary Art with its new Wall Of Mirrors just put up last week, and the only person there is also trying to find how to handle this eye feast with her camera? We acknowledged each other, then set about our unique visions. Since there were only we two we couldn't help trying to not be the follower of the other, nor impose some competitiveness in our quests, picking "the" right angle. And yet, we found ourselves trading off each other's ideas. There was no flirting, perhaps she was waiting for someone also, but our exercises kept generating a bit of frisson here, a bit there. And then my friend showed up. The other photographer and I had jostled ourselves into the positions where we were obviously going to catch each taking each, but we both saw the potential at the same time. Joanne stepped across the floor, and serendipitously a guy, who turned out to be who the other photographer was waiting for came around the corner from the entrance and we both caught each other; I caught her directly and, along with my friend and hers in the mirror and she caught all three of us in the mirror she was aimed it. Voila!

perseverant

readers & writers, hello again! having read lots of advice about blogging, i know i'm not supposed to apologize for not posting for so long... or to explain why i've been away.  but i'm going to anyway. i've missed several days because life has been overwhelmingly busy. but thankfully, it's all good stuff. i've started a new job, i'm back in school, and as always i've got the mama & wife thing going on. i also had the wonderful opportunity to fly to Pennsylvania for the wedding of two good friends. i'm back now... and will do my best to get back to blogging, back to the writing (and the writing friends) i've really been missing :)

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writers, join me in writing about this photo prompt?  share your story, poem or creative non-fiction response by clicking on comments below.  here's my spin on the photo: 

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Foundational.  When I look at these rocks that's a word that comes to mind. And solid, and weighty, and ancient. Patient, present, resolute. There's something about stones, like trees, that makes me think they are quietly breathing, bearing silent witness to the lives which bustle and swirl around them. They remind me of other foundational pieces of my life: the unconditional love of family, the affection of dear friends, of how the world keeps spinning and soaking in the warmth of the sun for us. I want to find that speckled rock again in the heat of the day and hold it in my hands, running my fingers over its pocked terrain and pressing it to my lips with a prayer of gratitude.       

shivered

readers & writers, welcome. hope your weekend brought you some time to rest and play. our weekend was pretty kind to us; in between study sessions (i'm back in school now) and loads of laundry (i'm back to work now, too!) we had some good fun.

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speaking of good fun... howsabout a writing exercise? take a look at my photo above and see what short story, poem or creative non-fiction response bubbles up in you...  then simply write it down and share it with us by clicking on comments below! i love to read your work. here's my spin on the photo:

"We want to eat on the patio," she said with a shiver. "Really?" I said. She stared me down. "Patio." Her boyfriend or husband or whatever shrugged, so I led them outside, grabbing a wet cloth from the bar on the way.  After wiping down the table and laying out their silverware and menus, I told them Cindy would be right out. They were still standing. He made an effort to pull out her chair for her, but she grabbed it and yanked it out of his hand. When she sat down, her chair was a couple of feet from the table. He hesitated a moment, then sat down at his place and thanked me. I walked away, shivering myself.  I heard her chair scrape forward a couple of inches at a time across the concrete. 

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"What's it gonna be?" she said, just as I reached the door. I paused.

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"Um, salsa or queso do you mean?" he asked. 

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"No," she said. "I mean her or me?" 

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I really, really wanted to stay and hear his answer. I was dying to. But there wasn't a way to do it without being super obvious. And anyway it was freezing out. So I opened the door and went back to my hostess stand, wondering what other adventures Valentine's Day might bring.

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painted

welcome, readers & writers. thank you for stopping by!

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writers, care to join me for a writing warm up using the photo above as inspiration? share your short story, poetic or creative non-fiction response by clicking on comments below. readers, comments are open to you as well! see below for my non-fiction response to the photo.

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The year I graduated from college, a friend and mentor gave be the book A Gift From the Sea by Anne Morrow Lindburgh. Written on a solitary writing retreat in a simple cottage by the sea, the book of essays is abundant with wisdom about life and relationships; each chapter is inspired by a different element of the seashore ~ shells, waves, gulls, sand, etc. One insight that has stayed closely with me all these years is the metaphor she drew between relationships and tides. There is a natural ebb and flow to all relationships, she believes. At times the tide is in and the relationship is marked by abundance ~ joy, communication, affinity.  When the tide is out, and it will go out, there is distance. We often feel that distance as loss. We fear being left alone and cold and vulnerable on a washed out beach. Ms. Morrow Lindburgh sought to reframe, re-think those "tide is out" phases.

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When the tide is out in a relationship, she says, it is the perfect time to explore the smooth, glossy surface of the ocean floor...  to look for treasures, the shells, clams (pearls) and starfish hidden just beneath the sand, pieces of ourselves we've never seen or have long forgotten. Trusting that the tide will indeed return, we can enjoy the solitude and time to focus on ourselves. We can wait with patience and hope and excitement for the tide to rush in again. This photo brought the beautiful wisdom of A Gift From the Sea back to me. When the world feels empty, bereft of color, we find beauty in unexpected ways. The brilliant yellow of the flower in the photo is muted, stilled. But the gorgeous, inky stain spreading out from the center of the pansy gets its moment to shine.

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made

writers & readers, welcome! i'm so glad you've stopped by. 

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today's photo prompt comes to you straight from my weekend. on friday our family enjoyed a (very) rare snow day here in austin, tx! my boys and i were able to scrape together enough clean snow off of our car to give this cowboy snowman blobby fellow life (at least for a few hours until the sun came out). writers, i'd love to read your short story, poetic or creative non-fiction spin on the photo - just click on comments to share it. readers, comments are open to you as well.

Ya might say that the day started out at loose ends... I felt scattered, drifty, cold and alone. Not myself. But round and about eight o'clock something changed. Warmth came and gathered me up, scoop by scoop, pulling me to a solid center, smoothing me, shaping me, adding cool layer upon layer to me, smoothing some more until I was myself.  Then they gave me eyes to see. Boy, howdy did I love their laughing eyes and rosy cheeks and bright smiles. Next came a nose and then a big sniff from me... whoo-wheee did that air smell fresh and clean. Healthy like. At first the little one gave me a stick for my mouth, but it was kind of flat, and it made me look sad. So when the neighbor brought over the green crunchy looking things and gave me a smile, with eyebrows to match, I was right happy. Right glad to be alive. That mama person ran inside then and found me a hat.

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"There," she said, "he's our Texas snowman. Well, snow blob." Blob, she said. Did she mean Bob? I think she meant Bob. How on God's green earth did she know my name? Anyhoo. I sat there on the back of their car while they took pictures. After a little while they went inside, saying something about hot chocolate. I waved at passing cars with my stick arms and saw a whole posse of people smiling as they went by. And then, as the sun moved higher in the sky, I felt so warm. I closed my eyes and fell to sleep. Up, up I felt myself float. Like on a dream. And now I'm a cloud and I'm passing over their house and waving. It's me, Bob, I shout -- and then, in case they don't realize, I say Blob. It's me, Cowboy Blob! 

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