Tag Archives: daily post

Collecting Dust (though maaaybe not forever…)

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Leftovers

For this week’s writing challenge, shake the dust off something — a clothing item, a post draft, a toy — you haven’t touched in ages, but can’t bring yourself to throw away.

 

Before I started traveling, I had to get rid of a lot of stuff. I mean, a looooot of stuff. I’m nothing close to a hoarder – I live out of a backpack, for crying out loud – but I had a plethora of clothes and cool trinkets back in the day. Right before I hit the road, I gave most of my things away to friends and the Salvation Army. There were a few items, however, I couldn’t bear to let go. I ended up leaving this bundle of stuff at my parents’ house in North Carolina.

Of all the things I left with my family, my horseback riding gear is the dearest to me. Somewhere, sadly stuffed in a closet, lie my boots, half-chaps, helmet, and gloves. I’ve had those riding boots forever – they’ve undergone many a cleaning with saddle soap and black shoe polish. This phase of my life, unfortunately, seems to have no room for my equestrian-related desires. Being able to ride consistently takes some commitment, and I don’t feel ready to stay in one place for a while. I haven’t had a consistent horse gig in at least six years; I have no idea when I’ll ride a horse again, and it would be pretty silly to lug all that stuff around. There’s just some part of me, though, that believes I’ll be able to pull out that gear one day and use it again. Maybe I think that keeping those things will aid me in manifesting a reality that includes horses. Whatever the reason, I don’t think it’s necessarily a bad thing to keep my horse gear around. As long as my parents don’t mind, that is.

Words Between Generations

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Daily Post Writing Challenge: Give and Take

Focus today’s post on the contrast between two things. The twist? Write the post in the form of a dialogue.

 

GIllian shifted her weight, settling into the cushioned wicker chair. Her usually smiling mouth stiffened into a rigid line as she stared into her glass of iced lemonade. The comforts of her impeccably decorated screened-in porch seemed stale today.

Why does it always have to be so awkward?

Being around her 11-year old grandson was never easy, even though she had been taking care of him every Saturday for almost 6 months now. Even though Ry didn’t know it, his very presence reminded GIllian of how much she had failed to bond with his father, her only child. It didn’t help that he was so very ecstatic to see her. Gillian wasn’t sure where the hostility stemmed from, though she secretly suspected that Ry’s ex-junkie mother, Sindie, had something to do with it. Sindie was less than fond of her ex-husband, and probably blamed Gillian for, well, god knows what. Darren. Even now, his name bore a pit in the base of her stomach. How she wished…

“So, Ry, what would you like to do today?” GIllian posed the question in her “fake cheery” voice, feeling a twinge of guilt as she did. Did she really think today would be different?

The dark haired boy looked up briefly from his gaming device and scowled.

“C’mon, bud, it’s a beautiful spring day…how about we go get some fresh air?” Her heart sank as she felt her tone of voice rise. Why can’t I break this pattern? She could basically predict his response by now.

“Don’t wanna.” This time, Ry didn’t even bother to glance up.

Gillian rose from her chair with a sigh and escaped into her kitchen. Of all the questions clouding her psyche, one stuck out with burning ferocity.

Why can’t I fix this?! C’mon, Gil. There’s gotta be something he’ll respond to.

With new resolve, Gillian headed back out to the porch. She stood in the doorway, silently raising the courage to try to break through through her grandson’s looming walls.

“Ya don’t have to pretend, ya know.”

Ry’s muttered statement almost knocked the wind out of her.

“How…what do you mean by that, Ry?”

The boy looked up and scowled. Wrong answer, Gil. She took a deep breath and tried again.

“Okay, you’re right. I’m sorry.”

To her surprise, the boy broke away from the death glare he was giving his device, peering questioningly as his grandmother.

“You are?”

“Yes, Ry. I haven’t been treating you fairly – you’re much more mature than I give you credit for.” Gillian hoped with everything that this would work.

Ry squirmed in his seat, unsettled by his grandmother’s new approach. The gaming device, now lying discarded in his lap, continued to beep and flash like an insistent one-sided conversation.

“Oh.” The one-word reply spoke volumes, for his tone had shifted from its usual surly defiance to one that hinted at a hidden vulnerability.

Gillian smiled warmly at her grandson and stepped back into the kitchen to grab the lemonade pitcher. After refilling Ry’s glass, she decided to splurge and add a little gin to her own. Why not celebrate a bit for achieving such a monumental victory? That one word, one sound at that, had changed the course of her entire day…maybe even the entirety of her relationship with Ry. No matter what happened today, Gillian had broken through to her grandson like she had never been able to with Darren. Maybe this would be her second chance.

 

 

 

 

 

On Learning How To Breathe

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Poem entry for the Weekly Writing Challenge

 

The first time I breathed

today (for those others

surely could not have been but mere imitations!)

I felt it, really felt it,

flow into my nasal passages

as I stole some of the passing

gust of wind.

The breath, full of all

those eternal argon particles

and stardust pieces (but

mostly nothing –

at all)

tumbles into my lungs (

expanding, e x p a n d i n g)

and finally I feel what

I had been missing all day.

Connection, life, wealth, and

eternity,

all contained within this

one curious handful of air.

Imagine that! The history

of the universe, contained for

moments at a time

within my own being…

it’s only right that I should

feel so lucky.

Exhale now, but slowly;

the first true breath of the day

is always one

to savor.

I wonder what the

next one will taste like?