Not Disappointed

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Cape Disappointment (Photo: John Westrock on Upsplash)

 

The damp timbers creaked under her feet as she wondered if the fog would lift. She half-hoped it would not.

She was still small and timorous when her uncle had brought her here for the first time. “And you won’t be disappointed,” he had laughed, the lines about his eyes creasing in merriment.

It was only later that she understood his joke. It still made her smile.

Indeed, she loved Cape Disappointment. Even in the fog. Perhaps especially in the fog, in its unique magic. She’d read that almost a third of a year’s hours are spent in fog on the headland, masking rivers, hugging sand.

A gust of wind dripped cold into her collar and she laughed. Her uncle used to shake a branch onto her. This felt like a gift.

“You were right, Uncle,” she wiped a tear. “This place did not disappoint. Neither did you. Not once.”

 

 

For What Pegman Saw: Cape Disappointment, Washington, USA

 

 

The Apprentice

The monochrome image shows the base of a tree with a hole, like a doorway, through its base...

Photo prompt: Sue Vincent

 

“It requires one step through.”

She squinted at the trunk. “I can see the other side.”

“So it would seem.”

She circled the tree and peeked through the opening. “It is as I said. I can see your legs.”

“I’m sure you believe you can.”

His calm voice infuriated her, but she knew that getting riled up will only lead to another long lesson in teaching her self-control.

She breathed.

He nodded.

She turned away from him and breathed again and then counted to ten for good measure. She could almost imagine him chuckling, though she knew he probably would not give her the satisfaction of seeing him react that way. Still, she could feel his amusement. It had been the hardest thing for her. His mild dismissing mockery. It was a constant reminder that she was a mere neophyte swimming furiously upstream in hope of getting even the smallest measure of trust, let alone recognition.

Why did he take her on when he had so little regard for her?

She circled the tree one more time. In part to move some of her agitation, but also to use the trunk as some shelter from her mentor’s scrutiny. She knew what her eyes told her: A hole in a tree, a gap she could toss a pebble through (not that she’d dare, now that he told her what it was), certainly of no size to fit a person.

She also knew that eyes can lie.

Still she resisted.

“Perhaps you aren’t ready.”

In spite of herself she felt her fingers clench. She hated when he did that. It made her feel like a child to be goaded.

Perhaps I am not, she retorted in her mind.

“Indeed, perhaps you’re not.”

Her eyes flew to meet his. She had suspected for some time that he could read her mind, and it felt like someone’s wandering hands rifling through her underwear drawer.

“I could read it in your eyes,” he noted, confirming rather than reassuring.

“What if I go through with it?” she sighed. She felt not so much resigned as she did defeated. He always got his way in the end. She could flail about and delay and prolong the path and belabor the process, but inevitably he got her to do things as he’d wanted. Half the time she thought his goal was to get her to where she would no longer resist him, while half the time she felt that the day she ceased rebelling would be the day he tell her that she’d failed completely.

Even now he did not answer till she asked again.

“You will see what there is for you to see.” He lifted his hand to indicate it was time for her to suspend all judgement, ignore her perceptions, and walk through the tree that he said was a portal.

“Is this the last test?” she fretted.

At that he chuckled. “It is never the last test …”

As she turned toward the tree she heard him add in a small voice that perhaps was made with mind, not larynx, “not for you, not for me.”

 

 

 

For Sue Vincent’s WritePhoto

 

Homespun

astronomy background constellation cosmic

Photo: Pixabay on Pexels.com

 

“Can’t say I’ve known all along,” he said.

She snuggled deep into his lap, safe under the quilt, warmed by his heartbeat, listening to the song of the stars as they marched across the canopy of the world.

A different sky. This was.

The other half of life, perhaps. Better, even, now that she found home.

She, too, hadn’t known. Rotation, yes, but only as rounds of emptied hope.

Though her soul perhaps did know. It must have seen the edge of the world spin, and held on, to keep her whole.

 

 

 

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Spin in 92 words

 

 

Courageous Connections

PNG cross OfirAsif

Photo: Ofir Asif

 

Like a rickety bridge

Over fast,

Troubled water,

Calm your heart

As you cross

To what awaits

Being told.

 

Trust connections

You fear but

Cannot test or

Strengthen,

With no promise

They won’t pull away,

Break,

Or fold.

 

Like a rickety bridge

Over fast,

Troubled water,

Take a chance,

Make a step,

And weave new paths

To your old.

 

 

 

For the Tuesday Photo Challenge: Connections

 

Staired Succession

spiral stair PhilipCoons

Photo: Philip Coons

 

Doors in corridors close

Even as others open

For the path no one sees

Goes around

Half again

In the climbing.

 

For dVerse School Days Challenge: Alphabet sestet

 

Big Brother

Big Brother SmadarHalperinEpshtein

Photo: Smadar Halperin-Epshtein

 

I will go, Big Brother

To the end of the earth

After you.

In spite of fear

I will try to repeat

All you do.

But I’ll still

Just in case

Reach for

And draw courage

From you.

 

 

For the Wits End Challenge: Childhood

 

Perfectly Premature

Elie Max Kichka 03

Photo: Elie Max Kichka

 

It is all as it should be

It is all as it ought

Whether we at the moment realize it

Or not.

When the time seems unripe

Let yourself

Be assured:

What may seem incomplete

Or half-prepared to endure

Is nonetheless just

Perfectly premature.

 

 

 

For The Daily Post

In Theory

Pigeon Pair OfirAsif

Photo: Ofir Asif

 

“In theory,” she said,

“The world’s all you need it to be.”

“In theory,” he nodded,

“It is indeed already so.”

They slacked their thirst

As the hypothesis of plenty

Sprawled below them,

Undulating hope.

 

 

For The Daily Post

Trusty

GuardDuty SmadarHalperinEpshtein

Photo: Smadar Halperin-Epshtein

 

Don’t be fooled by appearance,

Bravado

Or pomp.

Fiduciaries of trust

Aren’t those loudly declaring

The draining of swamps,

But those who watch out

For dereliction of duty

Against trolls

Full of tromp.

 

 

 

For The Daily Post

 

 

A Good Match

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A Perfect Match: Photo by Smadar Halperin-Epshtein

 

I love this photo by my niece of her little boy and his uncle’s dog taking a walk on the beach. It encapsulates a tapestry of perfect pairings: sunset and beach, beach and dog, dog and boy, boy and beach, water and light, trepidation and trust.

The soft waves lap at the figures. Both child’s and canine’s play contained by a still-forming bond.

The silvery light with its promise of blush, the speck of island in the distance …

The footprints and shadow on the wet sand behind …

The image is a salve of contented quiet and hopeful calm.

 

 

For the Photo Challenge