Writing Prompts

From time to time at my writers group we agree to use writing prompts to have something to share and discuss at our next meeting.  Sometimes I share them here, this is one of those times.  Just a little light reading for you on a hot summer day.

This writing prompt was "I used to think..."

            I used to think Candyland was a real place.  The lollipop forest, and the pool of root beer with a vanilla, chocolate and strawberry float were places I wanted to visit.  As a child with a fertile imagination I also thought that leprechauns lived in the hole at the base of the old maple tree that grew near our porch.  I thought Rudolph really lit the night to lead Santa on his rounds and Frosty the Snowman really came to life.  The whole world was like me, with clean running water, a soft bed at night, and loving parents.  Everyone, I believed, had nice schools, books, and enough to eat always.  Sometimes I wish I could go back to that time when everything felt so simple.  To have that bubble of innocence around me, how restful that would be!

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 This one was "They had nothing to say to each other...."

Uh oh!

They had nothing to say to each other as they sat together looking at the body.  Each going over in her mind the series of events leading up to this moment.  Sandy found her voice first.  “What have you done Jen?”

Jen swallowed, and croaked, “Nothing, he just stopped and died.”

“I don’t believe you.  You were always talking about poisons and how a good whack with a hammer would get rid of him!”  Looking back at the little body Sandy whispered, “Poor little guy.”

“Oh cut it out Sandy!”  Jen’s voice got louder as she went on, “You wanted to be rid of him as much as I did.  ‘Poor little guy’, oh please!”

Sandy and Jen froze at the sound of approaching footsteps.  “Is that my Joey?” With fear in their eyes the girls turned to look at Mrs. Higsby.  As Sandy opened her mouth to answer she was interrupted by “Yip! Yip!” and nearly lost her footing as the ball of fur that was Joey scampered through her legs to his owner.  Not noticing the looks of disbelief on the girls’ faces, she handed each of them a five dollar bill and said “Thank you young ladies for taking care of Joey for me again today.  See you next week!” The girls were still gaping after her and the little dog long after they had disappeared from sight.

The Smart (aleck) Phone

Well, I am now the reluctant owner of a brand new “smart” phone, or as I like to call it (when I’m not cursing at it), a smart-aleck phone. I can think of nothing in recent memory that made me feel more stupid than this piece of electronic wizardry.  Why, I have been asked, did I purchase it if I don’t like it?  I’ll not get into all the reasons, but suffice to say data share plan, two family members who were interested in them, and passive aggression of sorts.

The first problem arose when the salesman, we’ll call him “Joe”, was transferring contact lists from our old phones to our new ones.  Of the three of us, mine refused to do it.  I don’t know if my old one refused to let go, or the new one refused to accept.  “Joe” told me I’d have to do mine manually.  I told him that I should get a 5% discount for my trouble, but he just gave me an amused look and continued entering things into the register.  Next, the screen protector on mine had bubbles in it, in spite of him trying twice to put one on smoothly.  I suggested another 5% discount might be a good will gesture.  Again the amused look while entering data.  Perhaps he was a bit miffed because in spite of his urging us to purchase cases for our phones from him, we huddled briefly and decided that we would go to a nearby discount store and purchase them for about 40% less, thus robbing him of some of his commission.  When he told me the total I just about passed out, but handed over my card and smiled.

To celebrate our new purchase we decided to stop on the way home for dinner.  While waiting, we took out our smart phones and tried to figure them out.  Of course, my 23 year old daughter had no problem, and a bunch of “oh  cool!”s came from her.  “Hmm!” and “Ah ha!” could be heard emanating from my darling husband, while I sat there muttering curses under my breath trying to figure out how to do the most important things I want my phone to do—make and take calls, and text.  Once we were home it was time to try out all the ring tones and set all of that up.  I confess, I am not crazy about any of the sounds that come with the phone, but chose them anyhow.  Next came me trying to download “apps” and then figuring out how to turn the sound off of the notifications.  Really, I don’t need to know every time someone comments on something on Facebook that I have “liked” or commented on!  Nor do I need to know every time someone takes a turn on “Words with Friends”.

Then came the day that I had a voicemail, and couldn’t figure out how to listen to it!  By the time I thought to put the phone to my ear, all I heard were the last 2 words of the message.  I tried and tried to listen to it again, but could not figure it out!  Everything I tapped on either did the opposite of what I wanted, or did the same thing over and over, and wouldn’t clear.  Tempted as I was to throw the stupid thing out the window of my van, I compromised and threw it on the empty seat next to me.  The following day I had my daughter show me how to listen to voicemail.

A week after purchase, I am slowly coming to terms with my smart-aleck phone.  It’s like a new child; try to figure out how it works, then work hard to get it to do what you want.  If it starts talking back to me or sticking its tongue out I’m definitely throwing it out a window!

More Bruises to My Heart

It happened again.  Yesterday I filled out some forms required to plan for Hillary’s future.   I don’t like to think about the realities of that, it makes my heart hurt.  The forms require writing down everything that she needs done for her—everything she can’t do—which is pretty much everything.  It gives such a sad, depressing “snapshot” of her.  It doesn’t tell who she is, what she’s like, what she can do.

I went to the library today, leaving Hillary with my wonderful respite woman for a few hours so I could run some errands and have some time to myself.  While there I noticed two young women in wheelchairs with their attendants.  I couldn’t help but think how in just 2 short years Hillary will no longer be in school, and our options for what she will do to fill the hours of the day are limited.  One option is to hire attendants to take her places.  While I know that it is wonderful to have options at all, I think how sad and lonely that would be for her.  She likes to be around other people who are lively, talking, laughing, doing things.  None of the available options for her include as much of that as she has at school every day.  It hurts my heart.

I always knew that these days would come.  There will be more and more forms and decisions to be made over the next couple of years in regards to Hillary.  Just because I knew this was coming, doesn’t mean it’s any easier.  At least I wasn’t blindsided by it.  Forgive me if I occasionally post about these things, they are not happy thoughts, but necessary, and by confronting them I can continue to give Hillary the happiest life I am able to provide.

When I Think of Dad

When I think of Dad I hear coffee percolating very early in the morning, smell eggs and toast cooking, and hear heavy footsteps leaving the house.

I hear a deep voice reading “Little Red Ridinghood” doing all the characters’ voices, especially the wolf.

I see kind brown eyes and a white t-shirt, and country music on the stereo.

I remember early cold winter mornings and a tired man starting my car so I could go to work on Sunday, his one day to sleep in.

I hear muttered comments and laughter at a family gathering.

I see old cars held together with spit and a prayer carrying a family of 6 wherever they needed to go.

I see green lollipops, burned cookies, and grape popsicles that nobody else wanted.

I remember plastic ware in a shirt pocket at family reunion picnics.

I hear silly rhymes and someone calling me “Snicklefrits”.

I know that I grew up with love, respect, and understanding nobody else could have given.

The Past

With the windows down and the radio loud she’s singing as she cruises ‘round the town.

  She’s got her short shorts on and her hair’s streaming in the breeze, she’s smiling and she’s waving bringing guys to their knees.

  She’s nineteen, and it’s seventy nine, the summer’s rolling on and all is fine.

 Billy Joel is singing “Stranger”, and she sees her greatest danger as the boy she’s been stringing along.

  Out of the blue comes a sound to her that’s new and it stops her dead in her tracks.

  It’s a little baby girl who is the focus of her world and reality of a sudden is back.

   She’s in a mini van with a bottle in her hand, and a seat full of groceries to boot.

  She’s wearing mom jeans, Elmo’s singing ABC, and her world is surrounded by cute.

 She thinks back on those days when just cruising was the way to spend her free time in the sun.

  Now she’s by the kiddie pool and she’s wiping off the drool that has just run down her arm.

  She reflects as she coos that those days may have been misused but they sure were lots of fun.

  Now that boy is a dad because of all the fun they had and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

  She still sings as she goes, but it’s “head, shoulders, knees, and toes”, and she’s happy with the life she has.