Quotable Sundays

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Quotable Sundays 

I believe that there is something/someone bigger than me who has come through for me when I thought all was lost, who literally answered my prayers in ways that I least expected and often causes me to really laugh loudly. Happy to note that there is enough for us all.  May the holiday you celebrate this week be thankful, filled with memorable moments, love and laughter. For me abd mine it’s a Merry Christmas. We are together and we are thankful and deeply appreciative.  Enjoy the connection. 


Disclaimer: I have no rights to this photo/quote.  Borrowed from the internet.  

No Whining Wednesday

No Whining Wednesday

I never really get to catch up with my WordPress buddies on Wednesdays but I didn’t go to my Zumba class today, I opted to stay home AND work out! I am happy to report that I have busted a move (I have proof because my waist and legs are hurting from me gyrating to the music), done a light dinner and sitting down to work on my business plan for my new business.

Ping! Ping! Ping! So many notifications from WordPress and I had to see what had everyone’s attention. First, I would like to thank my friend @creativewriter for nominating me for the 3 Quotes, 3 Days Challenge. Be sure to check her out. Still working on how to insert a link so bear with me 🙂  Then going through my feed I came across @Deborah the Closet Monster’s post about a colleague who recently passed away and how she would spend her last day.

wordpress FB

Disclaimer: I have no rights to this image or quote. Borrowed from the internet

I may not check my blog every day but when I do check on Sundays (I would be ungrateful if I expect people to read my words and not reciprocate the favor) I enjoy you sharing your lives, your thoughts with me. I look forward to it and will go through my feed repeatedly to make sure that I did not neglect anyone. I may not always comment but most times I am smiling.

wordpress friends

Disclaimer: I have no rights to this image or quote. Borrowed from the internet

Thank you for being brave, for being fun, for encouraging growth, for sharing information, for supporting me on the road to being a better writer.

what if I don’t?

She said, “I didn’t want to ignore her, I didn’t want not to love her as much as I should after all, she was my mother”.

These words got me thinking. Being a mom is serious business. It’s more than birthing, more than providing. It’s like tilling the garden, planting the seeds, pulling out weeds from the roots, providing nourishment and support, watching everything grow, protecting from the elements as much as you can then helping them recover after storms pass, and finally blooming to their full potential. Easier on paper, I say. It’s hand holding and lots of hand wringing, it’s the back and forth of chatter (which we finds out sinks in), it’s something simple like that first card from kindergarten saying you’re the most important star in their world. 

She loves her mom but as I gently reminded her all gardens are different as are all moms. They do the best that they’re capable of doing which is different for everyone. So many things play into the equation most notably being life with its often bipolar moments. We don’t often have the fictious moms or families portrayed on screens but I believe we can draw inspiration from them and from moms we come across in our daily lives.  I treasure those inspirations but the ones I am blessed to guide, lead, love and support are my greatest inspirations. They are my legacy, my heart!

Treasured Thursday (in a pic or two)

Treasured Thursday (in a pic or two)

i spent most of the day with my feisty extrovert and this one will be in my memory bank for infinity. We didn’t do anything extraordinary (in my book) but the time spent together while grocery shopping, meeting her friends and taking a really long walk in the park as the sun closed out the day was one of our best. No fussing, lots of laughter, sharing stories made me wish that time would stand still. As I look through the pictures she sent moments ago, I smile and commit the awesome feeling to memory

   

  

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Careless Whispers

“Words used carelessly, as if they did not matter in any serious way, often allowed otherwise well-guarded truths to seep through.” 
― Douglas AdamsThe Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul

I watched her eyebrow arch, her wrinkled skin around her mouth turn upwards ever so slightly quite scarcastically.  She stared at the  woman sitting across from her, her eyes attempting to pin her young victim and silently wipe the innocence of her face.  The young woman sat in the chair with her hands neatly folded on her lap. She was terrified but kept a smile on her face. 

She had been in the older woman’s employ for quite some time now and was witnessing what she had only heard whispered about. The older woman whom we shall call Kit, had been heading that department for many years and her department was successful in spite of her. Projects were put together and came to fruition without any assistance from her but she demanded the credit. Things were changing for Kit and she could feel it. Her company was downsizing, she wasn’t connecting with her staff, she wasn’t productive unless she counted her frequent runs to the local coffee shop. The young woman was everything Kit wasn’t and was headed for a promotion – as Kit’s replacement.   

Kit had been trying to discredit the young lady with stories about her poor work habits and her lackluster job performance. All of this culminated with a meeting in Human Resources where we now sat. I had no choice, Kit had violated company code and inspite of her many years of service, she had to be terminated.  

 

Writing101:day9:point of view

“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.” 

― Diana Abu-JaberCrescent

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. 

Writing 101: day 6: character study

Writing 101: day 6: character study

“I think that the best thing we can do for our children is to allow them to do things for themselves, allow them to be strong, allow them to experience life on their own terms, allow them to take the subway… let them be better people, let them believe more in themselves.” 

― C. JoyBell C.

I thought about this assignment for a bit which is why I’m a day late. I would like to think that everyone I meet is interesting, at least in the moment if I’m being truthful. After much thought and deliberation (primarily because I’m challenging myself to dig deeper, to step out of the box) I decided the most interesting person I have met all year is my daughter. She is tenacious, self assured, ambitious, smart, carries herself with such grace that I am very aware I did not possess in my early teens. 

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She may not be someone I have just met in the literal sense of the word but every time I look at her or share a conversation with her, I feel like I’m getting a glimpse of the beautiful heart, the strong willed, outspoken woman she is growing up to be. She has always inspired me to be more and I tear as write this because I’m proud to be her mom. 

What She Told Me

“As tears fall from her face
she begins to sway
Love shouldn’t hurt this way.”
― Diana Rasmussen, Snow White Darkness

He came home, inebriated, and the sunny day quickly turned grey. They ran to their rooms in fear. He called out to her, speech slurred, he wanted dinner immediately. She brought it out and called the children to get him a beverage, he wanted juice. You could have heard a pin drop, the room was so quiet. She began to question him about his whereabouts, why was he frightening the kids. His voice didn’t even get pass a conversational tone when he flung the eating utensil across the room with one hand and the other hand came smashing into her face. The kids began screaming, she looked at him perplexed while he looked shocked at what he’d done. Silently tears ran down her face while he openly cried. They thought she would leave him then and many times after that but she never did. She loved him, he needed her and so she cried on the inside.

Through the Looking Glass

It’s a beautiful day to be thankful. A dear childhood friend recently lost an aunt to cancer, her fourth family member who has passed away in five years. Like she said, you begin to question the unfairness of life and your faith is challenged. One of our mutual friends thought we should do an activity to show our support. Hence the brunch.
It wasn’t a surprise to her but she was touched that we came together to support her and make her smile. While a group of us were chatting I looked up and saw our happy reflections in the mirror and wanted to capture the moment. Through the looking glass one can see the love and carefree moments of friends.

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