3 WW 030310

Amaze
Frail
Sacred

Crocus

Frail green reach and strive

Anticipate and amaze

Renew sacred hope

Copyright C.D. 2010 All Rights Reserved
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Sunday Scribblings 204

#204 - Big Dreams

Big Dreams

Her waist was thin and her hair long and silky. She waited for her audition along with 50 other men and women. It was her first time downtown alone and she was frightened. But the challenge and excitement gave her confidence and stars in her eyes. It didn't matter that she didn't have experience. It didn't matter that there was no part for her. It didn't matter that this would be one in a series of many disappointments. She knew but her dreams were big.

She clutched her portfolio in her hand and leaned against the wall. The red carpet was dirty. The walls were dingy and needed paint. She wished she would have brought a book or a magazine like some of the others. As she stared at the black pattern in the maroon pile, she smiled.

Soon she would be working and doing what she loved. She would leave the safety and security of her parents' home and move to the Northside. Theatre. Great shops. Beautiful apartments. Art. Creativity. It was all before her.

~~~~

Sitting at the kitchen table, she remembered. She smoked her last cigarette and let the warmth flood her inside. The smoke billowed around her head, like a gray scarf.

The irony was not lost. She was heavy now, with three kids, and a husband who worked his fingers black in grease and oil. Back in her old stomping ground, where she swore she would leave. Back to the home where she grew up. Back to the neighbors who never believed she would get anywhere. Maybe they were right all along.

She crushed her smoke, got up and turned off the light. Tomorrow was coming faster each day. But in her heart there was always that hope. Even when she put on her uniform to go to work. One day, she'd go back and audition again. Let those old neighbors shake their heads. Let her husband roll his eyes.

Maybe she could get another portfolio and audition. The parts would be different but she didn't care. She double-locked her front door and looked out the window. The street was dark and everything was quiet.

"It's never too late. I have big dreams."

She picked up her son's backpack and hung it on the hook before she went to bed.

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Three Word Wednesday 010610

Drain
Epic
Nibble

I see toothbrush spray on the mirror and the faucet. On the right side of the sink, against the backsplash, a soap dispenser in the shape of a yellow fish accuses me with his stare. He has spray on him too.

"Don't look at me," I tell it. "My kids did it." The fish continues to stare so I wipe it off. On the left side, the toothbrush holder looks practically clean. The fish and I wonder how that can be.

I do a quick swipe of a rag and rinse it under the rushing cold water. It begins to warm but the drain holds an epic clog. I take out the drainstop but it doesn't help.

Behind our toilet, on top of the tank, I see three plastic baskets. It seemed a good idea at the time. My youngest son's basket, on the far left, is practically empty but for a toothbrush and a travel size tube of toothpaste. The middle basket, blue, has a brush, a comb and a spray bottle; my oldest son's red hair needs a little help before school. The last but not least basket is closest to the sink and crammed with 2 kinds of cleansers, an alcohol free toner, 3 scrunchies, 3 hairbands, 1 large, lilac colored brush, 1 large, orange and black leopard spotted brush, a couple of poofs and a bottle of nail polish wedged in front toward the bottom.

Suddenly, I know whose hair has clogged the drain.

My trip to the grocery store for drain cleaner has yielded 4 shopping bags filled with yogurts, SnackPacks, bread, cereal, a roll of paper towels and a package of lint traps, along with the drain cleaner. Knowing it will take time to work, I dump the bags on my kitchen floor. Dust bunnies run out of my path as I race up the stairs to dump in the cleaner. The stuff on the floor can wait because it will take some time on this.

After 15 minutes, my Draino knock-off has come to the rescue. Again.

I hear the side bell ring at 3:19pm and let the younger two in the house. They talk at the same time, but not too each other. The younger one didn't hold the door open for his sister and she was being mean to him.

The bathroom upstairs was a mess. Harrey, it's your week to clean. And when
were you going to tell me about the clog? Were you waiting for the fish soap
dispenser to jump in and swim in the standing water?

No answer, not even a nibble.

Copyright 2009 All Rights Reserved

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Carry On Tuesday # 33

Your prompt for Tuesday January 5th

This week our prompt is taken from a quote attributed to the poet Ella Wheeler Wilcox.

We laugh, we weep, we hope, we fear

Use all or part of it within your poem or prose.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tomorrow will bless

I smoothed his dark hair
And he giggled when I touched his neck.
I kissed his smooth, soft cheek
and watched him snuggle into his pillow.

I shut his light off
with a click
and my heavy footsteps
creaked on our
hardwood floor.

I paused
as I shut off
the hall light.

He sat by himself today
Away from his classmates.

He is immature
and sweet,
clumsy, struggling,
and kind.
His road so alike and so different
from his brother.

I held him as a baby
And prayed.
A mother has so many dreams
for herself
for her child.

We laugh, we weep, we hope, we fear.
And we pray
that tomorrow will bless
our children.

Copyright 2010 All Rights Reserved

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Sunday Scribblings # 194

From Sunday Scribblings: This seems a close cousin to the prompt from last week, but it's a good one to think about as we look forward to another new year. What have you dared to do this year? How has 2009 dared to treat you? What will you dare 2010? How does dare fit into your life? Have you dared anyone lately?

At the tender age of 47, with two children in grammar school and one in junior high, I went back to school. I had been toying with the idea for a couple of years, but decided that this would be the year and the time to do it. The economy was bad and part time jobs were hard to come by. My goal was to work at the local school but I was told that there were at least 200 people in line for the same job and who needed the money for food.

I spoke with a counselor who told me that I needed three classes to earn an associate's degree. From there I could go to the local university. I took a deep breath and enrolled in a class.

On my way home I almost got a ticket for not wearing a seatbelt. I was in a daze. Thankfully he only gave me a ticket for not having my insurance card in the car and I went to court, with nothing on my record.

I was terrified that I was going to be the oldest one in my class but I figured that having a night class would be to my advantage. My teacher was older than me, thankfully, but I was indeed the oldest one in my class.

My class was "Introduction to Mythology" and I loved the subject. It was so different being in school as an adult rather than a young person struggling to get out of there. I have another friend who took Chemistry and she said she was like a sponge. It's too bad that I wasn't like this as a twenty year-old.

In the coming year, I will have more transitions. I am taking another class, during the day. My husband and I will continue to do music on Sunday morning; at least, that's the plan. I am not sure how I feel about doing music anymore. I am older, heavier and I think they need someone younger upfront. My voice is still ok, but I'm not sure where I belong.

The Bible talks about God speaking to a person in a still, small voice; I have found that it's more like an impression. I feel like that I should be paying for attention to my home. I have tried to spend no time in my house, for many different reasons.

This year will I will dare to love my house. I will dare to bless it and exercise hospitality.

Finals

I have completed a semester of college. Little, old me.

I loved the class and wish I could take another one. But I only needed one humanities class and Introduction to Mythology was it. I wished now that I had taken one of the science classes that I needed. Oh, well.

I have not written anything, but I'm not sure I can blame it on school. I'm in a blue funk. Trying to find my way in transition once again.

My Scattered Stones

I found a poem while googling my blog. It is called My Scattered Stones by Mary Anne.