Trifecta: Love, and Loss

With a sigh she sits down at last, in his chair, covered in a plaid that doesn’t go with anything else in their living room.  The chair that despite her protests he insisted on getting-and she insisted on nicknaming Sore Thumb.  She is bone-weary, but  proud of herself.  She has survived another day without him.

She holds his letters with timorous hands, reminding herself each time her eyes trace the handwritten pages that she mustn’t cry and smudge the ink. But as words on paper throw wide the door to anguish, tears slide down her cheeks.

Wrapping her arms around herself, she slouches her body into the comforting softness of the plaid that never will match anything in their living room.  A sore thumb.  A constant reminder of him.  She is glad.

 

This week's word prompt is:
DOOR

1: a usually swinging or sliding barrier by which an entry is closed and opened; also : a similar part of a piece of furniture
2: doorway
3: a means of access or participation : opportunity <opens new doors> <door to success>

It Must Be Monday!

Oh Dolores!  What a fun mannequin you are!  You painted your toenails!  I won’t need painted toenails when I wear my new shoes!

Aren’t they cute?  They have roses and mermaids on them and they remind me of tattoos! I found them after I looked for shoes just like my friend Renae has.  (Hers are really cute too!)

What’s the matter now?  Are you pouting, or is the sun in your eyes?  You’re pouting?  But the shoes are mine-and I don’t think they’d fit you.  Besides, you have the blue anchor shoes.  And while we’re on the subject of your wardrobe, it’s good to see you back in your sailor dress again.

And Dolores, I just made this bag!  It has palm trees on the outside, and a tattoo print lining on the inside-and genuine bamboo handles and vintage buttons!  Will you model it for me?

Please?

I’ll even give you a tattoo if you cooperate!   I just got a brand new set of felt tip markers!

 

Oh Dolores.  You really should learn how to play poker.  You’d be a natural…

Love, Kona

 

Happy Friday, dear readers!

Here’s wishing you green grass and dandelions, blue skies and warm lakes, and your favorite tennis ball…

Have a good weekend! 

Wayward Wind

Thirty-seven years. 

37 years, since she’d said I do, and folded herself up and put herself away along with her wedding dress and veil. 37 years of making beds, and doing dishes.  Cooking oatmeal and darning socks. 

And now, as she was about to hang out the laundry, she was mulling over Marvin's words.  What he’d said at breakfast while raising his coffee cup to her in a mock toast.

“Emma,  after all this time, you’re still as dependable as a Maytag washer!”

He’d said it after taking a swig of the Folgers she’d poured for him.  Snorted in amusement at his own wit.  She was so mad she’d wanted to spit in his mug.

Emma looked across the length of empty clothes line, and then at the basket piled high with wet clothes.  The poles at either end of the line were already sagging, as though the mere thought of the weight of all that washing was too much to bear.  She knew the feeling.

Dependable.

A dictionary full of words and that was the best he could do. It was the best he could do because he didn’t really know her.  Not the way she’d hoped, 37 years ago, that he would want to know her.

A quickening breeze whispered through her hair.  Tickled her legs and flipped up the hem of her dress. Took her by the heart and lead her into an ecstasy that dared her to remember-to remember when she was young. 

Thirty-seven years is a long time to be married.  Longer when the person you are married to doesn’t know you at all. Doesn’t know that memories of what might have been and longings for what could be, blow in on a wayward wind. 

 

The wayward wind is a restless wind
A restless wind that yearns to wander
And she was born the next of kin
The next of kin to the wayward wind

 

This piece was inspired by one of my favorite Patsy Cline songs, and this week’s Trifecta prompt.

ECSTASY (noun)

1

a : a state of being beyond reason and self-control

b archaic : swoon

2

: a state of overwhelming emotion; especially : rapturous delight

3

: trance; especially : a mystic or prophetic trance

 

Photo credit here.

Not the Same Old Same Old

I have to confess that the flavor of my town seems a little bland at times.  It’s not that I don’t like where I live-it’s just that I’m used to where I live.  So imagine my delight this weekend when I was presented with a refreshingly unusual entrée of discoveries.

Friday afternoon we took Kona and Willow to one of our most frequently visited trails, and this little garter snake was literally hiding in plain view.  Lethargic from the cold, he was not in any hurry to vacate the patch of sun he’d found and scurry away.  Garter snakes are a common species but I still find it thrilling to see one.  In addition, they don’t often put themselves on display like this to allow for such close observation. 

 

I spotted this cow in a pasture as we were en route to the trail.  I wish I’d gotten a picture that more accurately put these three animals into better perspective-but the Holstein is huge!!  At least a foot taller at the shoulders than the other two!  I’ve seen many a cow in my day, but never one this big…

 

It’s not my intent to ridicule this fellow, bless him-but the waistband of his pants was just above his knees!  The expression “gravity defying” comes to mind…Thanks for the giggle, kind sir!

 

I struck gold at Goodwill-or silver, I should say.  I found this vintage silver plate palm frond napkin holder for $5.99.  When I searched online to learn more about it, I found one just like it that recently sold for $47!  I really feel like a pirate now!

 

And my favorite discovery?  That the first stalks of rhubarb were ready for harvest!  Amy and I picked enough for a rhubarb crisp, and the rest, as they say, was delicious history!

I hope all of you had a wonderful weekend, and that you have a wonderful week too!

S.O.S.

Wanted.

One ticket back to the 20th century.

Being transferred to the new millennium was supposed to be a promotion, but now that I’m here, I’m lost.

I need to register a complaint.

Who’s in charge?

 

 

This weekend Trifextra is asking for exactly 33 of your own words plus the following three words:

• charge
• century
• lost

So 33 of yours plus 3 of ours means that everyone will have a 36 word response this time around.

Write at the Merge: Till We Part

As star crossed dreams of a Veronese garden wedding wilt away, she mourns, tears glittering her cheeks.

He's crept over to her with such quietude she doesn’t notice him by her side until his voice teases her from her sorrow. “Juliet, I’ve got a surprise for you.” He holds out his hands, revealing several packets of flower seeds and a cake mix.

“I don’t think we should put off getting married just because of a silly old family feud, do you?” 

Her eyes travel from the gifts he’s brought her, to his eyes, where they settle, full of questions.  He makes his case.

“We already have everything we need-each other.  But for the sake of tradition, I got you flowers and a cake, too. They’re sort of implied, for now, but I’m optimistic about our future.  What do you say?”

Glitter turns to diamond.

“I do, Romeo.”  

My inspiration this week was this prompt:

“It was not the thorn bending to the honeysuckles, but the honeysuckles embracing the thorn.”

The quotation is from Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë: