The Present

adam-niescioruk-rONxy5SIdHw-unsplash

(Photo: Adam Nieścioruk on Unsplash)

 

She was shaking when I entered the room. Hands wringing, lips trembling, her eyes a shade of numb I had rarely seen.

Mary had called me. She had come to check on her and bring a midday repast. Mother being too proud to ask for help, even though her legs no longer held her sturdily or long enough to cook herself a decent meal.

Appearance and stoicism were Mother’s barometers of standing.

Socially and otherwise.

Not that you’d know it from her mascaraed cheeks.

She pointed to the antique book I had gifted her the previous evening. 

I understand, therefore I’ll live,” was scribbled in the cover. “R.B. 1941

Mother pressed a notepad on me. Scribbled on it were the same words. Same letters. An older hand.

“I forgot,” she whispered, caressing her initials. “But reading what I have just written, I now believe.”

 

 

Prompt quote: “Reading what I have just written, I now believe.” (Afterward by Louise Gluck)

For the dVerse prosery challenge

 

Whistling Into Wind

 

janko-ferlic-Ua4Ctly4rdI-unsplash

(Photo: Janko Ferlič on Unsplash)

 

She had vowed to not come back. Ever. Not to live. For sure not that.

It did not mean she would not try to visit. Or to glimpse. To set out in a morning’s determination only to curl around via rambling roads and pause at every bridge and barn until it got too late to see a thing or she lost nerve and drove home steeped in a tired mix of relief and disappointment.

“I’ll come with you,” Elmira finally said. She placed a warm hand on the base of Anastasia’s neck, hoping to soften the tension it held whenever memories threatened flood.

Anastasia shook her head. “There is nothing behind the wall except a space where the wind whistles.”

“And yet,” Elmira kneaded gently, “the Orphanage’s whistles still tell stories. Perhaps the likes of which your soul insists ought to be heard.”

 

 

Prosery prompt: “there is nothing behind the wall except a space where the wind whistles” from “Drawings By Children” by Lisel Mueller

For the dVerse prosery challenge

 

 

A Matter Of Scope

anna-sullivan-k7TxFz4JEQk-unsplash

(Photo: Anna Sullivan on Unsplash)

“It was never a matter of reach, but of scope,” Morris mouthed the words around his pipe.

Ethel harrumphed under her breath, but gently. She had to take care to not move the petals or she would have to restart the lot, and there was nothing she disliked more than having to redo tediousness. Be it in business or in marriage.

“Cannot see what you find in him,” her mother had criticized her daughter’s choice of man.

“Perhaps we look at him through the wrong end of the long telescope of Time,” her father had chuckled in knifing disapproval.

“Too long a telescope it must be,” her mother had deadpanned.

Her parents were both gone now. To the shorter end of cholera. Left Ethel and Morris the house. And a failing botany business which they were slowly but assuredly pressing into sought after art.

 

 

Prosery quote: ‘We look at him through the wrong end of the long telescope of Time’ (Hummingbird, D.H. Lawrence)

For the dVerse prosery challenge

 

Be With

Friendship Craft DiklaNachmias

Photo: Dikla Nachmias

 

When someone needs,

May you be there

May you be with.

When it is you who needs,

May someone be there for you

To be with.

 

For Nurturing Thursday

 

 

Flipper Friends

dolphin duo OsnatHalperinBarlev

Photo: Osnat Halperin-Barlev

 

There is nothing more lovely

Than riding in pair

Over waves

Under skies

Skimming high

Fins in air.

 

For the Sunday Stills photo challenge: Friend

 

Fields of Gold

Golan. Osnat Barlev

Photo: Osnat Halperin-Barlev

 

Fields of Gold

You’ll remember me when the west wind moves upon the fields of barley
You’ll forget the sun in his jealous sky as we walk in fields of gold
So she took her love for to gaze awhile upon the fields of barley
In his arms she fell as her hair came down among the fields of gold

Will you stay with me, will you be my love among the fields of barley?
We’ll forget the sun in his jealous sky as we lie in fields of gold
See the west wind move like a lover so upon the fields of barley.
Feel her body rise when you kiss her mouth among the fields of gold

I never made promises lightly and there have been some that I’ve broken
But I swear in the days still left we’ll walk in fields of gold
We’ll walk in fields of gold

Many years have passed since those summer days among the fields of barley
See the children run as the sun goes down among the fields of gold
You’ll remember me when the west wind moves upon the fields of barley
You can tell the sun in his jealous sky when we walked in fields of gold
When we walked in fields of gold, when we walked in fields of gold

(Songwriters: Dannii Minogue, Gordon Summer, Henrik Johan Korpi, Karen Poole, Mathias Johanson)

Here’s the version as sang by Sting in 1993:

And one of my favorite renditions by Eva Cassidy (RIP, Eva, your music goes on):

For the Tuesday Photo Challenge: Field

 

Six Words Are Not Quite Enough

 

Berlin InbarAsif

Six striped empty tables in Berlin; Photo: Inbar Asif

 

Six words are not quite enough

For me who lengthy rhymes adore

So instead of words to doff

I’ll celebrate with six times four.

 

 

For The Six Word Saturday Challenge