The Cost of Living

smallpox hospital Roosevelt Island IngeVandormael

Photo: Inge Vandormael

 

She had come to make a new life.

She found illness. She found death.

And life, perhaps, hiding in the shadows

Of her convalescing sorrow,

Waiting

To take hold.

 

She had come in search of meaning.

She found a babble of confusion.

Within. Without.

Rising skyward. Buried underground.

She found hope, too. For things she didn’t know

Even had names

But sprouted meaning

In the corners of what she believed

Was ruined,

But had in fact been opened

To allow in the winds of change.

 

She came seeking answers,

And found the cost

Of living

Paid for little more than added questions,

And that she had to look

Quite closely

At what wasn’t there,

To find

What she did not even know

She had been searching for.

 

 

 

Photo: The old Smallpox Hospital on Roosevelt Island (a narrow island set in the East River between Queens and Manhattan).

For What Pegman Saw: Manhattan Island

 

2019 Blessings

Black-Eyed Susan NaamaYehuda

Photo: Na’ama Yehuda

 

May this year be as calm as you need it to be

As adventurous as your spirit requires

As hopeful as your heart can hold

As happy as pure joy

As healthy as is doable

As satisfying as your widest dreams

As filled with laughter as your belly can tolerate

As nourishing as warm hugs

As loving as your heart desires

(And then some

Because we can all use

Extra of love).

 

And … while we’re at it:

May this year bring an end to what no longer sustains you

May what drains you move on, or change

May hurts heal

May grief ease

May frustration untangle till truth’s in the clear.

May worry turn action

May stagnation find pace

May you be all you wanted to be

And a bit more still, just in case …

 

Blessings be to you,

Na’ama

 

 

Blush Blessing

Red AtaraKatz

Photo: Atara Katz

 

May your day be lit

By sun

And new grown things

On path to home

And love within.

May the closing year

Bring calm

And blushing joy

And flowered hope

For what begins.

 

 

 

For Sunday Stills: Something Red

 

New Wings

tltweek149

Photo: Boris Smokrovic via Unsplash

 

She clung to the flower and whispered, awe shuddering through with each beat:

“I didn’t even know to imagine how it would feel to stretch wings,

to sense the blood pumping through to the tips, edges fluttering free with the wind.”

 

For Three Line Tales #149

 

Hold The Rainbow

April Pearson

Photo credit: April Pearson

 

She’s always loved rainbows. Even if they’d signaled more endings than beginnings and more lost pots of golden dreams than she could count. Perhaps that’s why rainbows were so colorful: They distracted you from the fact that they weren’t much more than a trick of light, air distorted through the sheen of still held tears. Would double rainbows herald double sorrow or a chance at joy?

“I wanna hold it, Mama!”

She glanced down at the curly head and her eyes followed the small hand that pointed at the docks across the narrow inlet. “I wanna hold it!”

“You can’t hold a rainbow, Marly.”

The finger remained trained on the colorful arch, and Laurie didn’t needs to see the toddler’s face to know the little girl was scowling. She recognized the full-body-speak from memories in her own bones.

“Come.” She bent and scooped the child into her arms. She was going to make sure life was different for this one. “Such a pretty rainbow, isn’t it? We can’t hold it, but I can hold you, and,” she reached into the go-bag that held everything they still possessed since they escaped, “you can hold your unicorn.”

 

 

For the Sunday Photo Fiction Challenge

 

It’ll Do

three line tales, week 137: an abandoned asylum

Photo: Nathan Wright via Unsplash

 

Never mind the mildew and dirt, the echoes in corridors of sad stories they knew.

There’ll be roof over heads and a shelter for those who lost all yet pulled through.

We will clean it all up. Make a home for these kids. It’ll do.

 

 

For Three Line Tales, Week 137

 

Her Best Dress

three line tales week 131: take my hand

Photo by Prince Akachi via Unsplash

 

“Come.” She said. She pulled him up and dried his face with the edge of her best dress.

“Where?” He hiccupped, too spent for sobs. Everything hurt.

“Away.” Her voice was soft but hard. “We’ll be miles from here by the time he wakes up.”

 

For Three Line Tales, Week 131

 

Coniston Choice

Image result for coniston water lake district

Photo: www.lakedistrict.gov.uk

 

She shrugged her macintosh off to use as ground cover before lowering herself gingerly. She drove two hours to get here and her hip still protested anything less cushioned than her bed, let alone damp gravel. Still, walking in the fresh air was good for her, the doctor said.

Didn’t say where she had to do that walking, and Norm was no longer around to object. He’d been terrified of flying, worried about trains, sea-sick on boats, wary around cars. Poor Norm. She couldn’t blame him. Not after what he’d gone through during the war.

Made for dreary holidays, though.

Not anymore.

She gazed at the lake, took a deep breath, and pulled the folded papers out of her pocket: The unsigned bill of sale for the house; the travel agent’s brochure for the round-the-world ticket.

 

For What Pegman Saw: Coniston Water Lake District

More Than Afterthought

Hike OfirAsif

Photo: Ofir Asif

 

As good things end

And dear friends

Bid farewell,

Sweet and sorrow mix

Into the heart

And air

For things that will no longer be

And all to be remembered,

And for the many wonders

That will continue life

Just as the soul

Intended.

 

Dedicated with gratitude to all at the Daily Post, on their last day of The Daily Prompts, and the last week of the Weekly Photo Challenge, which along with the Community Pool and First Friday, are closing shop after 7.5 years. I wish them all much success in their future blog-ventures!

 

For The Daily Post

Restarting Time

On the go

Photo: S. Levenberg

 

When oomph sags some

And bounce in steps

Lacks uphill charm,

When sparkle dims

And feels ho hum,

It may signal

Restarting

Time.

 

 

For The Daily Post