Attached

Do you ever get sentimental about objects? In this case it is a car, a 1994 Toyota Camry. It was named Freckle by the third driver, my granddaughter Saeda, because the paint on the hood was so damaged.

It has been a well used vehicle, travelling from TX to CO to AZ to CA, and all inbetween. It was my husband’s car for work and when he passed away in 2013, I gave the car to my oldest grandson. After he was older and bought a truck, it was passed to his sister, then a younger brother, then another sister.

Only a month old, it survived a crash on a Dallas street, in pouring night rain where we were rear ended by a pickup that left the scene immediately. It’s been through the mill with us.

When my grandson drove it here in Cheyenne, I hadn’t seen it in many months. We parked behind it as we were all meeting at the same place. I said, is that Dad’s car? And then started crying. Amazing how a thing can trigger such emotions.

https://rugby843.blog

Fresh Start

Huddled under covers away from the cold

It’s warmer than yesterday, or so I’m told

It’s not just the weather that keeps me so confined

The news of plague and famine are currently on my mind

The affairs of state a vote can’t seem to change

A presidential palace needs to be rearranged

Loud debates of shouting, criticizing everyone

How is change to come about when we cannot think as one

Power and its money seem to win the lot

The helpless and the needy seem to always be forgot

We need a change, we need to think

We need to gather to gain strength

As the opposing forces will go to any length

Destroying friends and allies

Taking up with enemies

Forgetting about the masses

We need a fresh decade, new century.

🗽🗽🗽

https://rugby843.blog

Fandango’s Friday Flashback

February 22, 2018. MLMM Tale Weaver 160- Homelessness

Five in the afternoon, already darkness creeping in, and the wind is starting up. Winter in this city is milder than some, but the cement never warms in the day’s sun. The temperatures are low, even though the sun shines here practically every day.

I have a few items that render some warmth. An old yoga mat someone threw in the bin helps a lot against the chill of the pavement. A salvaged length of canvas from a discarded tent provides shelter from the wind. The scent of it being soaked from rain brings back memories of my youth, camping with my folks.

I wipe tears from my tired eyes as these memories of happiness drift in and out of my mind. I pull the worn blanket over my head and try to forget those things. I try to hide them away for they do me no good. Sleep doesn’t come easily when you have to be aware, every minute, aware of where you are, who might be approaching.

I never feel really safe. The library where I wash at night and in the morning has uniformed guards inside. I do feel safe there, for a time. At ten they close and the brief warm respite of clean safety ends. I retreat to a familiar partially hidden hallway to spend the remainder of the night. It is cold, but dry, and as much shelter as I can afford. I shall be grateful to wake to the sun another time. I am homeless but I am alive.

https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2018/02/22/tale-weaver-160-homelessness/

FFftPP 2-19-20

The meeting place of James and Catherine, well away from the crowd, with its moss covered rocks and refreshing waterfalls, is a reminder of a long ago love. They met here as children, with their families for a community picnic. Everyone was eating, drinking, or jumping in the water having a good time.

It was only in their teenage years that James and Catherine met here again, quite unexpectedly. Cathy came here often to sit and write imagined happenings in her diary. She often made up the entries for her life was quite uneventful. This one afternoon, she was shocked to see on the opposite bank, a boy remove his clothes and take a swim near the falls. Cathy retreated behind a tree but couldn’t take her eyes off the young man, James.

Being a small high school, they eventually saw each other and James asked Cathy for a date. She blushingly agreed and they have rarely been separated since. After a while they both acknowledged the day at the falls and returned here in later years with their own children.

https://flashfictionforthepracticalpractitioner.wordpress.com/2020/02/19/flash-fiction-for-the-purposeful-practitioner-2020-week-08/#like-1123