fiction

The Tree

Sally10 Comments

Emma didn’t go down that street anymore.

In fact, she hadn’t gone down it in years. The last time had been with a policeman and her mom. The time before that had been with Linette.

She remembered that day so well.

“Don’t you hear it?” Linette said to her. “The tree knows my name.”

“I don’t hear anything,” Emma replied. Well, she heard cars and people in the cafe and such, but she couldn’t hear the tree.

“It wants me to put my hand in there,” Linette said, pointing to the oddly shaped cavity in the trunk.

Emma tugged at Linette. “Let’s go,” she said. “This is creepy.”

But Linette ran back. “I’ll catch up with you,” she said.

Emma never saw her again.

Emma repeated that story umpteen times to her parents, Linette’s parents, and the policeman. She showed them the tree.

They shook their heads and looked at her with sad expressions.

Poor confused little thing, she could hear them thinking.

Now, she could hear the tree calling. It did know her name. She was blocks away, but somehow she knew.

She knew it was the tree.

Emma, Emma, the tree called. Come see me.

“No!” she said aloud.

Emma, Emma, the tree called.

Emma found herself walking toward the street, then down the street, then approaching the tree.

She had forgotten the way the cavity in the tree looked like a yawn.

Put your hand inside, the tree said.

Timidly, Emma reached her hand toward the hollow.

This is my submission for the Unicorn Challenge. It’s a simple challenge: write no more than 250 words and use the photo as a prompt.

poetry

I thought about trashing this…

Sally13 Comments
Art by Glen Martin Taylor

So shattered
Everything that mattered
Broken, unfixable, trashed
Dashed

One person
Opts to better, not worsen
Fashion, build, construct, un-break
Make

When you might think all is lost
That all pieces should be tossed
Giving up has higher cost

This is my response to this week’s W3 Challenge. Here are the guidelines given by the Poet of the Week:

  • THEME: Write a poem to encourage someone not to give up—urging them to persevere, try again, or push forward for just one more time or day;
  • STRUCTURE: Use no more than 11 lines;
    • Choose any form or rhyme scheme you prefer;
  • Optional Inspiration: Consider drawing inspiration from the image and/or statement by artist Glen Martin Taylor above;
    • If you do include Glen Martin Taylor’s statement or repost the image, please give proper credit to the artist.

There’s an unpronounceable Celtic form called Deibide Baise Fri Toin. Syllable counts per line are 3-7-7-1. Lines 1 and 2 rhymes on 2 syllables. Lines 3 and 4 rhyme on one. So I wrote two of those plus three more 7-syllable lines that all rhyme with each other. Total lines = 11.

Life

Having the flu is like…

Sally4 Comments

Quick search of the internet using the words “having the flu is like”. Here are five things:

  1. Having the flu is like having a really bad cold. Um, no, it really isn’t. That’s like saying that apple pie and Boston cream pie are the same because they’re both pies and have a crust. If you’ve had both, you know the difference.
  2. Having the flu is like heartbreak. No one loves you. No one wants to be around you. You’re shunned. (Mai Abdo, Washington Post) Actually, I have felt very loved through this. People call and text. They bring me soup. They check in.
  3. Having the flu is like being in jail. A couple of the similarities noted: taken away from your job, solitary confinement, and dreaming of good food. (https://my1053wjlt.com/6-ways-having-the-flu-is-like-being-in-jail/)
  4. Having the flu is like going through the same day over and over. “I have a terrible night’s sleep. I am exhausted in the morning. I take an afternoon nap. I wake up in the evening to just exist, dreading my impending night of terrible sleep. At 2am I check my temperature. Fever. I take two ibuprofen and put a cool rag on my head. I toss and turn in bed. I move up the couch. I wake up at 4am. I go back to my bed. Somehow I sleep through the rest of the night. I wake up the next day to do it all over again.” Yup, this. (found on Reddit)
  5.  Having the flu is like having a license to kill, or at least a license to incapacitate. Find your worst enemy — hell, anybody — and ask to borrow a pencil, use his phone or to become blood brothers. It’s all good, just remember: transmission of fluids is best. Use your imagination. Or a needle if you’ve got one. (from The Daily Free Press: The Good, the Bad and the Snotty of Getting the Flu)

This is my submission for One-Liner Wednesday. Okay, I know, it’s more than one line. If you’re a hard core One Liner Wednesday person, stop after the first one.

gratitude · Life

TToT — February 8

Sally7 Comments

On Wednesday, I was feeling off.

On Thursday, I was not feeling well at all.

I emailed in sick to work. Despite sleeping all morning, I continued to feel worse and worse so I went to a walk-in clinic. I am 110% thankful for 1walk-in clinics. Yes, they are largely staffed by PAs and NPs — but, seriously, you don’t need four years of college followed by four years of medical school followed by four or more years of residency to be able to do a throat swab or a nasal swab (I had both) to diagnose common illnesses. Anyway, as it turns out, I have Influenza A. Joy, joy. (And, no, I did not get my flu shot.)

I hate being sick. I don’t have time for this nonsense.

Here are my sick thankfuls:

2Nadene and Marissa — who finished up my work at the church for me. They stapled and folded all the bulletins, which I had no energy to do.

3Shetland Season 9 — I binge-watched, sort of. I could listen to Scottish accents all day. I may need to go back and watch the show again, though. I kept falling asleep. There were a LOT of twists and turns — and my flu-infected brain struggled to follow the story line. Still — Scottish accents, beautiful scenery. I’m thankful.

4Songberd’s Grove — I’ll have to look back to see who recommended this book, but it has been delightful! Published in 1957, written by Anne Barrett, set in London, it’s a wonderful children’s book that is just what the doctor ordered.

5Friends and family who check on me. People have been so kind. My brother checks in twice a day — “Do you need anything?” A friend offered homemade soup. Another dropped off some food. I am grateful for them all.

6Sleep — I have slept SO MUCH over the past few days. It’s kind of an amazing thing that our body uses to heal. I rarely give myself enough time for it.

7Tea with honey. I am a coffee drinker through and through, but coffee hasn’t really tasted good. Tea, on the other hand, is soothing and I’m glad that I have some here.

I learned what a 8pilchard is. If I had guessed, I wouldn’t have even been close. It turns out they are FISH, like sardines. I can still picture my mother opening a can of sardines with that little key. She would lay those little fish neatly on a piece of bread and squeeze a little lemon on them. They were way too fishy for me. I love learning new words, but I’m not sure how often I will use the word “pilchard.”

I also love learning new phrases and came across 9“Not by a long chalk.” I had only ever heard “not by a long shot” — probably a military term. I looked up the chalk version and it turns that it’s a pub term. I found this on the web:

…the expression almost certainly comes from the habit of using chalk in such establishments to mark the score in a game, a habit which now survives in British pubs mainly in the game of darts. A chalk was the name given a single mark or score, so that a person might explain that somebody or other had lost a game of skittles by four chalks or you needed 31 chalks to finish. If your opponent had a long chalk, a big score, he was doing well.

The expression indicates a determined intention to continue, though the game is going against you. Your opponent may have a long chalk, but you’re not done for yet.

worldwidewords.org

I’m also grateful for this poem: 10“Small Kindnesses” by Danusha Laméris. Please check it out. It’s full of the small kindnesses we experience every day, and half the time we don’t even notice. I read it for the first time this week and I keep going back to it. I want to remember them. I want to see them.

fiction · Writing

Mr. Barleigh

Sally20 Comments

Mr. Barleigh kept the floors clean at the primary school. He swept. He mopped. He picked up trash.

Mr. Barleigh moved at one pace. It wasn’t slow, really. It wasn’t fast, certainly. It was an amble.

Mr. Barleigh was tall and thin. He had minimal hair, peppery-grayish. His uniform shirt was loose, as were his pants, but his suspenders kept everything in order. He had suspenders in a variety of colors and patterns. The children were always interested to see which suspenders he had on.

Mr. Barleigh knew every student’s name and greeted them by name every day.

Mr. Barleigh carved turtles out of little bits of wood and he gave one to each student. “We can learn a lot from turtles,” he would say, “but the two most important things are ‘Move at your own pace’ and ‘Be comfortable in your own shell.'”

Mr. Barleigh smiled when one of the 2nd grade teachers used his turtle sayings for a bulletin board. “I hope you don’t mind,” she said, “but there’s so much wisdom in those words!”

Mr. Barleigh always ate his lunch in the cafeteria, sitting with a different group of children every day.

One day, Mr. Barleigh didn’t come to work. Teachers and students alike were concerned. The police officer who went to his house found that he had died in his sleep. He also found that every bit of wallspace in his house was covered with school photos and drawings from children.

This is my submission to the Unicorn Challenge. The rules for the challenge are simple — no more than 250 words and use the photo as a prompt.

poetry

Longing for the window seat

Sally17 Comments

From the window seat on the plane, plain
Stretches out. And sometimes I see sea.
Sometimes it is a sandy beach. Beech
Trees with maple, birch, hemlock wood would
Populate my view. Back row aisle, I’ll
Say that my view is, of course, coarse
Economy class — deaf to my pleas: Please,
I need the window but I know no
One cares! [sigh] Be there in a few. Phew!

This is my submission to the W3 Challenge. This week we are challenged to write an “Echo Verse” which means the last syllable is repeated at the end of each line. It was a fun challenge.

When I fly, which isn’t often, I truly am a window seat person all the way.

Life · poetry

Some things on my “to-do list” that never gets done

Sally6 Comments

Some things on my “to-do list” that never get done
Sleep all night
Lose 10 pounds
Go out for a run

Other stuff on my “to-do list” that I keep passing by
Clean the house
Clean out the barn
Weed the garden — beautify!

What I want on my to-do list instead of all that stuff
Daydream
Moodle
Sketch
or doodle
Make some art with pasta noodles
Play the flute
Or trombone
Spend two weeks without my phone
Call old friends
To just say “Hi!
I’m thinking of you! Okay, bye!”

To-do lists are a tool, that’s all
Whether long or whether small
Crossing items off feels good
Instead of focusing on “should”

The title of this post was a prompt that showed up in Jetpack.

poetry

Writer’s Dice: Nature Poem

Sally2 Comments

Snowy prints
Down the ramp
Whose are they?
Some wild scamp

Perhaps fox
Or wild cat —
Which of you
Would do that?

‘Cross the street
Off you’d go
River-ward
Through the snow

While I slept
There you trod
All unseen
But by God

But, by God,
Prints reveal
You exist
You are real

You are close
You are bold
I must ask
Aren’t you cold?

Today’s roll of the dice: JOYFUL, POEM, NATURE, STRANGER

I decided to write a Cethramtu Rannaigechta Moire, an Irish poetic form that requires 3 syllable lines in quatrains. The second and fourth lines rhyme.

Also, I decided to look back at the photos on my phone for the first nature photo that wasn’t the moon and use that as additional inspiration.

I am perpetually cold this time of year. It was -7 when I first looked at the temp this morning. Hence the last line.

gratitude · Life

TToT – February 1

Sally8 Comments

I’ve woven my Ten Things of Thankful into a recap of my week.

This week I’ve been 1Riding the Robbie Burns wave. The event last week was such a rousing success that I’ve had people all week stopping in to say thanks and to offer suggestions for next year. “Next year let’s have scones, too.” “Next year, let’s put out some Robert Burns poems in case other people want to read one.” “Next year, I want to be sure to invite so-and-so.” For me, that response has been a continual encouragement.

This week we had a presentation from the 2New York State Police K9 training facility just outside our town. It was fascinating. The dog he brought with him was a Belgian Malinois. I was surprised at the size (small) and the energy level (huge).

On Wednesday, I had a rough appointment regarding a difficult thing I’m working through. As chance would have it, that same day I had an appointment with 3Rachel, my counselor. I know I’ve mentioned her before, but I can’t say enough about having someone safe and wise to talk things through with.

I also had a local friend reach out to me — 4Jan — which meant a lot. Very grateful for her.

My hip has been bothering me more and more. I don’t really like this aspect of growing old. However, 5swimming can hold the pain at bay a little bit, and I made it in the pool three times this week. Also I finally, reached out to an 6orthopedic surgeon to discuss what comes next. That appointment isn’t until March — but still, I made the appointment which is something I’ve been procrastinating. I’m thankful for both of those things.

Today, however, after I swam, I went back to my locker and my 7necklace wasn’t there. This necklace is so special to me. I wear it ALL the time. It has three discs: one with a tree to symbolize family and the other two have my children’s name along the edge. I am incredibly thankful that it was at home. I must have taken it off there before heading to the pool.

Our town’s 8Winter Carnival is this weekend. I went on a trip down Memory Lane with some photographs, trying to remember what year was MY first winter carnival. I think these are from 1968. They had the snow sculptures right on Main Street! I’m not even sure they do them anymore.

Stewart, Peter, and Sally
Sally (off to the left) and Stewart

This weekend is also the opening of the Quilt Show at the local art association. My youngest brother has taken up quilting, so someone asked if he had any quilts in the show. I don’t think he does, but I have one on my bed that I absolutely love. He gave 9this quilt to me this fall, telling me that the colors are Mom’s colors (true) but that it made him think of me. I LOVE my quilt.

To give you a sense of the colors

Today I received 10my Rabbit Room mug in the mail. Since my father died, I’ve been less involved with this organization, but I am still so thankful for the work they do and the encouragement they have been to me. Plus I always drink my coffee from a Rabbit Room mug. I have quite a collection of them.