I’m a week late to wish you Happy 2017 but I do hope that some sunshine blesses you. Sometimes the world makes it a dirty word but being a rebel or in my case, a girl’s case, rebelle is a definition of who we are and what we stand for. Have a great week.
“Consider the difference between the first and third person in poetry […] It’s like the difference between looking at a person and looking through their eyes.”
Today’s prompt: A man and a woman walk through the park together, holding hands. They pass an old woman sitting on a bench The old woman is knitting a small red sweater. The man begins to cry. Write this scene. Twist: write the scene from three points of view. The man’s perspective, then the woman’s, finally the old woman.
This moment had been hinted at many times in their relationship before but neither one wanted to be the one to throw in the towel. He realized how much he needed her in his life, she was like a good photobomb in his memories and he couldn’t let her go. As they walked he noticed the subtlety of her behavior towards him – still loving but more assertive, more determined. The peaceful look on her face so different from the often pensive look when she had something to say. From a distance they saw an old woman sitting on a park bench fiddling. As they neared, he saw she was knitting. That moment mirrored the moment he first met his love. She was sitting on a park bench waiting for some friends and she was wearing a bright red sweater. He later learned that her favorite color was red! Tears brimmed to his eyes as he turned to her.
She turned to look at him and saw his tears. She knew what he was thinking. How could she not! They had shared so many memorable years together. She loved him with every breath that she drew but she wanted this. “I have been yours for forever, I would like to find me” she thought. She didn’t want to find anyone else this was about her. Doing things on her own, discovering who she was. She would come back and she wanted to come back to him. She had thought about this for a while now, and now she had to tell him. Somehow, she could tell he already knew. She wouldn’t be glib about it, she knew he had been trying everything to change what he knew was bubbling in her. When they passed the old woman knitting the swearer, she would, she had to. She loved him but selfishly she knew she loved herself more.
“What a beautiful couple they looked so in love” the old woman thought as she watched them walk away. The man had big, brown eyes and the stature of her Paul. Paul loved her in red. It was his favorite color, he always said that red made him happy and laughed his infectious laugh which would make everyone want to share in his happiness. As she sat on the park bench she remembered all the happy moments, all the sad moments she shared here with him. Now he was gone. Her Paul was gone. A bittersweet smile that came across her face as she knitted that sweater. You see, Paul was her only son and he was driving home with his wife to share some amazing news with her. He wanted to do it in person, on that park bench, their special place. As she got ready to meet him, the phone rang. Someone said something had happened. She couldn’t remember much from the conversation but her Paul had suffered a heart attack and was in a coma. When she saw his wife, she knew what the surprise was. They were expecting a baby, her very first grandchild. The park is near the hospital where she visits Paul almost everyday. She had come to their special place because she missed her Paul and as she knitted that little red sweater for Paulina who was due any day now, she heard that familiar infectious laugh.
Note to self (after finding the letter he wrote to her after she left him) Find someone who sees the real you and loves even the parts you try to keep hidden.
What a tough assignment! Pick three songs that are the soundtrack to my life!! You must be kidding. Reminds me of the phrase “If music is the food of life, then play DJ, play”
There are the sounds of my youth, the lyrics of first love, first crush, the sounds of summer, the beats of freedom, of self empowerment and independence, the songs that change my grey skies to blue, song that define my mood, moments, emotions, of my children’s eyes lighting up when I would sing in my off key tone, of setting the mood with my baby, of being brave, invincible and a conqueror.
Music defines my life and every song has a tangible memory from the conscious lyrics of Bob, Taj and Gregory to the lovers rock of Beres, Rod and Sara to the zouk and soca of Kassav, Byron Lee, to the country beats of George, Kenny, Shania and the gang to music of the streets of KRS One, DMX, Tupac, Jodeci even Puffy to the alternative sounds and beats of the world. It has a rhythm, a story because the soundtrack of my life has many notes and is as lyrical as my life.
Can’t believe this assignment has come to an end. This was my first attempt at expanding my view of the blogging world and wasn’t sure what to expect. Kudos to the administrators for choosing such interesting subjects. I was challenged to think, view and photograph things differently and lucky enough to connect with some great writers and photographers. Now it’s back to weekly posts, how mundane:-)
I missed the assignment from a few days back and since our photography session is coming to an end, I wanted to make sure I shared this one. This shopping center is a short walk from my job and houses retail, restaurants, a gym and a hotel. The design of the building instantly draws the viewers eyes upward and with the mish mash scents of all kinds of foods and the obligatory Starbucks, I visit this spot quite often.
“Fun fact #1 about pomegranates: Pomegranates are awesome.
Fun fact #2: Pomegranates are like little explosions of awesome in your mouth.
Fun fact #3: A lot of people think you’re not supposed to eat the seeds of a pomegranate – but that’s not true, people who tell you that are liars, and they don’t know anything about life, and they should never be trusted.”
― Tahereh Mafi
A bit of bad news today was sweetened with the fruit of my childhood – Pomegranate. Pure ecstasy!
I was terribly disappointed not being able to participate in yesterday’s challenge but rest assured I will have a delayed posting.
This photo was taken over the summer on a spontaneous day trip to Washington DC. We had fun traipsing through the streets of Georgetown and as we were leaving I thought this would be a great shot.
To the complaint, ‘There are no people in these photographs,’ I respond, There are always two people: the photographer and the viewer.”
― Ansel Adams