Month: July 2020

letter-c day 47

/ lyncrain / 1 Comment

 

22448611_10211861149578951_8819454969963027118_nTo think I thought meeting with the oncologist in person would somehow make this nightmare less stressful. Instead, I have more frustration to deal with. I’m angry,  and sad that I know nothing helpful at all.  The doctor got some of my records from Maine but a huge chunk of my care is missing.  No radiology or chemo toxicology reports, or two of  the three oncologists reports. So then the doctors says, I should know the names of the drugs used. The first time was 40 years ago and the second time was 15 years.

WTF?  The first time I was trying to raise three children, while working full time, in a verbally and sometimes physically abusive relationship and puking my brains out. The last time I had just gotten divorced, was attending college full time and working full time.  I am still furious that he commented I should know the drug names. Remembering that time is something I didn’t want to do. I assumed that all my medical would be available.  I just wanted my life back so I could enjoy dating, living again.

Apparently in this cluster f..k world that’s not the case. Yes, I’m swearing.

Now I have a genetic screening to be done, an appointment with a gynecologist to be examined down there and a biopsy there in addition to all that is happening to me on August 11th. I feel like a science project not a relieved patient. GRRRR

More waiting. More stress filled sleepless nights.

“Maybe cut back on the coffee a bit, that may help with the discomfort” he said after reading my food journal.  Coffee is not the issue….. I had days with no coffee and still f-ing hurt and had diarhea. So WTF?

Song choice:

I chose a song that simply feels right.  Especially the title that’s how I feel .. Basket Case! Anger needs to be expressed so why not with music. Basket Case works for this moment. I feel melodramatic, neurotic and paranoid. Why shouldn’t I be.. the dang letter-c is hanging over me. They’re not seeing me running my hands through my hair constantly, or knocking things over because I’ve become clumsier than normal or crying at the drop of a hat. A restlessness that can’t be satisfied whether it be going out, staying in, trying to sleep, lying awake all night, pacing the floor, watching the moon. I’ve done them all in the last 49 days.

Or worse masking my emotions up tighter so I don’t add more stress to everyone else. They all have enough on their plates with COVID-19, grieving, trying to find normalcy in a world that refuses to be normal. I know they’ve offered any time I need to talk but I am not a person who burdens others either.

 

“Do you have the time to listen to me whine
About nothing and everything all at once
I am one of those
Melodramatic fools
Neurotic to the bone
No doubt about it
Sometimes I give myself the creeps
Sometimes my mind plays tricks on me
It all keeps adding up
I think I’m cracking up
Am I just paranoid?
Or am I just stoned”~ Basket Case by Green Day on  lyric find

 

Joe Klass says, “The truth will set you free, but first it will piss you off.”  Ain’t that the truth.  But reality is I need to be like what Aristotle said, “Anybody can become angry — that is easy, but to be angry with the right person and to the right degree and at the right time and for the right purpose, and in the right way — that is not within everybody’s power and is not easy.”  My focus needs to be on the right objective, kicking this dang disease to the curb. Although tonight, I’m feeling more like Mark Twain…  I’ve counted to four, and now I’m SWEARING and piecing poems together from newspaper titles.

 

 

letter-c day 46

/ lyncrain / Leave a comment

46 consecutive days of blogging almost a record for me. I made it 90 days one another time. Maybe I’ll surpass my previous record this time.

The weather alerts are blowing up our phones. The sky went from a hazy blue to a very definitive stormy looking one. Yay, no lugging water for my veggies, or dragging the water hose around for the flower gardens. Speaking of flower beds, I posted a couple of years back a picture of my rose bush. I couldn’t believe how much it has grown since then.

They’ve completely covered the fence and grown over to the hostas. They’re very happy with their coffee grounds, chopped banana peels and eggshells every month and corn meal every March and September.

Charlie Daniels passed today. He was 83.  He’s probably most noted for “The Devil Went Down to Georgia,” a 1979 song about a fiddling duel between the devil and a whippersnapper named Johnny, Daniels originally called the devil a “son of a bitch,” but changed it to “son of a gun.”  I love how he made a fiddle sound. He was the best, although Alison Krauss and Mark O’Connor tried to outshine him.

Just like there is no other guitar player that can top Jimi Hendrix. I know Chuck Berry, Eddie Van Halen, Eric Clapton all tried but no way.

Just like when it comes to saxophones, no one can top John Coltrane in my opinion. He knows how to make it come alive. My favorites vary but I know what I love. Some say my music taste are eclectic.

 

My music, my reading choices, my hobbies are all signs of a well lived life because they all show how it has evolved continously. For that matter my friend choices are from all different walks of life and ages.

Books I’m currently reading are Churchill’s Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare by Gile Hilton. It’s a fascinating behind the scenes of the UK and Hitler in the early days. I’m working my way through Ursula Le Guin’s Steering the Craft, Lisa Cron’s Wired for Story and Writing the Life Poetic by Sage Cohen. Churchill I save for nighttime. The writing books I use during the day as stimuli for my writing and editing. My muse needs lots of guidance. Sometimes my rebellious muse needs more than words so I grab my camera which I did over the weekend. This was a shot I captured of a seagull just after it took flight at sunrise.DSC_0183

I’m working on a short story for Esther Chilton’s contest with the line required and this picture as my muse.  I didn’t know what had happened. Not at first. And then I knew.  I’m having fun working on it, which considering all that’s on my plate I need this kind of distraction. I’ll post it when I’m done.

My sweater crochet project has 8 new rows on it. I would have been further but I discovered I dropped several stitches which really changed the alignment of the double crochet clusters. So I had to rip some out. GRRRR

Letter-c  in case your wondering, I’ve got you shoved to the back of my mind. I can’t/ won’t allow more of my time, it’s bad enough you’re stealing my sleep still. I barely sleep as it is and you’re stealing that. One more day of mindless waiting. Though I’m dreading more delays, which I know is probably likely because the doctor will want to wait for the diagnostic tests on August 11th. That makes you happy doesn’t it, letter-c.   I’m going to keep my food battle against you in high gear, so don’t go smirking too much.

 More Culinary tools for fighting cancer

Cashews, yummy. Even better they’re copper rich and have the potential for suprressing tumors.

Cauliflower, we discussed yesterday with cabbage.

Celery is an anti-inflammatory. It’s also great for reducing blood pressure, too!

I have a funny story about celery. Back in school bus driving days , I would take a whole of celery, washed and cut into pieces with me everyday while I drove. I had done this for months consecutively. I complained about feeling light headed so I went to the hospital. The triage nurse couldn’t believe I had driven a school bus to the hospital with my blood pressure so low. Come to find out, you can overdo celery. Don’t eat it excessively, it does reduce your blood pressure. I already had low blood pressure so I compounded the situation.

Nothing exciting on the menu today, using the remainder of the  tuna casserole left-overs Right now I’m thinking about a chunk of sharp cheese and a granny smith apple to tie me over. Trying to keep my stress eating reined in, too!

Birthday approaching

Hard to believe CJ’s going to be 16 on the tenth of this month. CJ, is my second son, Chris’s boy. CJ already towers over me and I’m not short for my age.  Nor is his dad short and CJ is really close to passing him too. The doctor thought CJ would be easily 6 foot 7. He’s got a helluva start.

In my youth, I was 6 foot, now at least according to the last doctor’s appointment I’m 5 foot 10 inches. They lie to you about the golden years on every level. It’s more than getting old… you get creak and groans, you shrink, and your body malfunctions. WTF?????

“youth
it leaves you quick
and it never comes back”
― Emmy Marucci

 

“I was thinking about how people seem to read the bible a lot more as they get older, and then it dawned on me—they’re cramming for their final exam.” ― George Carlin

 

I haven’t taken up reading the bible so I guess I have time yet.

 

 

https://www.statnews.com/2017/05/17/nuts-colon-cancer/https://food.ndtv.com/health/7-

https://www.webmd.com/cancer/news/20060519/broccoli-cauliflower-fight-cancer

incredible-benefits-of-celery-in-fighting-the-risk-of-cancer-1651693

 

 

 

 

 

Laughing Along With A Limerick

/ lyncrain / Leave a comment

adding my own twist on the prompt mad….

Mad or Bad??

Once there was a strange man who was mad
He may even have behaved quite bad
Rumors flew, like wildfire
the children he did sire
making his wife quite bitter and sad

Esther Chilton's avatarEsther Chilton

Happy Monday! It’s limerick time! Send in your own or here’s a prompt for you –

JEST

Here are a few limericks to make you smile this Monday. The prompt was SULK:

Keith Channing:

“Stop sulking,” my mother would say

“You’re not going to get your own way.”

It’s not often the case

That a frown’s on my face

Never more than ten times every day.

Tangental:

Sweating from his considerable bulk,

Derrick descended into a sulk.

After he found his rollon

Had been wantonly stolen,

Leaving him dependent on grandma’s talc.

Ritu:

The very green Incredible Hulk

Was in an incredible sulk

Lockdown was such

He’d eaten too much

And fat was now most of his bulk.

–

There was a young maiden called May

Who’d sulk at her window all day

Her grumpy face

Was such a disgrace

That it frightened the virus away.

View original post 234 more words

letter-c day 45

/ lyncrain / Leave a comment

Two days more to go before the initial meeting with the gastric oncologist. This waiting is so frustrating. Time to me feels like pouring the dredges of honey from a bottle. January 8th is when all the crap began. They removed my gallbladder on the 13th. Nothing has been right since.  I’m very aware things take time and COVID-19 has complicated stuff but…cancer works on it’s own schedule not ours.

I couldn’t focus yesterday. I was even sure I would actually get a post for day 44 done but I did. It wasn’t one of my best that’s for sure. Though I did share some beautiful flower pictures from our walk in Lambertville.  The daisies made me smile.

Daisies

When I was young, I used to walk on the Horn of the Moon road in East Montpelier by the Wrightsville Dam picking daisies. I would weave them together and then wear them on my long red hair.  My crown of daisies lifted me from the drudgery. I was my siblings’ parent while our actual parents were in Connecticut running around with their liasons. Yeah, they both had lovers on the side. My father worked nights and my mother days so the timing worked well for their cheating selfs.

My sister used to pluck the petals and ask does he love me, or does he not. I never did. I didn’t want anyone to have that kind of control of my heart. Instead, I wanted to be riding off into battle dressed in armor with a daisy crown.

Poetry:

Apathy and Evil
Under a full moon, the wind ripped silent
that night in the overgrown cemetery.
Headstones cracked and leaned valiant
better than the local constabulary.
The decomposed body lies prominent
exposed, no one cared who did the treachery.
Eyes filled with indifference, so convenient
like everything in this small town sanctuary.

 

The daisies reminded me of the night I snuck to the cemetery for the first time when I was eleven after my siblings were asleep.  The nearest one from my grandfathers camp involved me walking across the Wrightsville Dam  Road and then down Route 12 for about a half mile then up the Bolio Road to the graveyard. I randomly laid daisy crowns on the worn headstones of my family members. That summer the nightly explorations became a favorite thing for me because I used to imagine the person’s life. The stories I would write about them. Writing has always brought me enjoyment.

This poem came about after re-reading my diary stories from my summer jaunts to the cemetery. I had written a story about a constabulary being killed and his body abandoned in the cemetery. No one looked there for his body. It wasn’t discovered until someone had been buried there the following year. He wad so disliked they simply left his body exposed with no investigation to follow.

I did love to wander a lot at night without my parents, or my grandparents ever knowing where I was.  Sleep wasn’t important to me. Maybe that’s why I have such good night vision. When I think back on all the things I did without ever thinking about the danger… I was a fearless child. Sometimes, I wish I had that kind of fearlessness now.

Culinary:

Tuna Casserole on this crazy humid ninety-four degree day.  I’m going to load my casserole with carrots and peas. We’re having a side salad with fresh picked kale, swisschard, and beetgreens with honeydew and cranberries. Yummy!

I wish the thunderstorms would come earlier today and cool things down. I love the energy of a thunderstorms, don’t you?

On Facebook, there’s a Lawrenceville community page and there was a bunch of posts about the firework noise. People need to release some of the tension with all this social distancing but of course some one has to be a downer. I wonder if they want Mother Nature arrested too because the thunder storms we’ve been having since this heat wave began are loud.

I’ll toss a couple more culinary cancer tools for you to know.

Cabbage like the cruciferous veggies, Cauliflower, Brussel Sprouts, Kale, Bok Choy, Broccoli and Turnip is antibacterial and anti-inflammatory. The key is not over-cooking it so you preserve the sinigrin compound that detoxifies carcinogens and inhibits tumor cell growth.

Cantalope is also anti-inflammatory with tons of Vitamin A.

Cardamon is a digestive aid and anti-inflammatory.  It’s great for digestive issues by simply chewing on cardamon seeds. Bonus you get fresh breath too! Cardamon may also reduce blood pressure, that’s an another added bonus.

Carrots are anti-inflammatory and also have tons of Vitamin A. The beta-carotene that gives carrots their lovely color helps us fight against lung, mouth, throat, stomach, intentinal, bladder,prostrate and breast… cancers. We should be eating carrots every day.

We made an early morning trek to the ocean. I really needed to recharge myself. There’s something about having my toes in the salty water and walking on the sand that refreshes me. I realized last night that’s what I truly needed. I hadn’t been in three months which is very unlike me.

One the ride back,  thought about the beach, people were socially distanced this morning. There was one family of three who arrived just before I was leaving that were doing their best to be in the moment. Dad helped his daughter fly her kite. She may have been three or four years old. Her joyous laughter filled the air. I miss the sound of happiness more than anything.

That leads me to my song choice today. Yeah I am very sentimental and sappy. I won’t deny it. It’s not the boy meets girl and falls in love part of this song that makes me smile as much as the perfect moment. Dancing barefoot on the grass, being together in that perfect moment. In the last two days, I’ve enjoyed perfect moments with Vic. We walked hand in hand on the canal. We sat together looking up at the beautiful Thunder Moon. We got up at 4:30 this morning to do an ocean pilgrimmage. We’ve played cribbage with coffee on the deck and in the kitchen.

 

Isn’t that what living in the moment is really about. letter-c , you have nothing to do with these perfect moments. My moments and dreams are mine always and forever.

 

 

Dear Johnny,

107085619_3261096580609741_7268708796319000118_o

Your Dad has grayed a lot in the past year since you left us.  Gramma sees the sadness in his eyes all the time with out you. I thought of you a lot yesterday, you loved the fireworks so much.  Your cousin Olyvia and you share that in common.

If you can find a way, let Dad know you’re with him. I think he really needs a sign from you. Gramma and Grandpa wished we could have been there with him. I hate this virus that is forcing us to be socially distanced.

You’re both always on my mind, always in my heart as are Vic, Jacob, Chris, CJ, Amanda, Olyiva, Lael, Braylie, Mikhayla, Caitlyn, Marcia, Debbie, Janine, Sammy and Logan

oops I can’t forget my beloved fur babies. Fluffy, Quasimoto, Purryl, Angel, Yeats, and Macavity.

The biggest regret of my life is that I have not said ‘I love you’ often enough.’

 

https://www.ramsayhealth.co.uk/about/latest-news/cabbage-anti-cancer#:~:text=Hospitals-,Cabbage%20found%20to%20produce%20anti-cancer%20chemicals,could

https://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/279176#:~:text=lower%20blood%20pressure.-,Cancer,and%20other%20types%20of%20cancer.

https://www.healthline.com/nutrition/cardamom-benefits#:~:text=May%20Contain%20Cancer%2DFighting%20Compounds,to%20attack%20tumors%20(%208%20).

Carrots

 

letter-c day 44

/ lyncrain / Leave a comment

 

DSC_0010Do you ever feel stagnant? I opened my computer three times and stared at the scree, today. What could I possibly add to this blog I haven’t already said.

Initally, I read Churchill Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare by Giles Milton because I was at a loss.. Then I grabbed another coffee, tossed cinnamon rolls in the oven and asked Vic to join me on the deck to play cribbage. It was comfortable the sun hadn’t reached us completely yet.

I came inside and read for awhile longer before trying a second time. I’m not usually at a loss for words but today I was. So I asked Vic if we could for a walk on the canal in Lambertville. We walked a mile. Yeah I know not very far but wearing a mask in ninety degrees does zap your energy fast. We did have water with us and did take water breaks but I still felt overheated.

There were lots of beautiful gardens  along the canal to visually stimulate me. The shasta daisies were my favorite. I took a bunch of different garden images to use later with my poems.

Once we got back to the car, I was surprised how red my face and neck were. I drank another bottle of water once I got home.

culinary:

106720306_10219708121988357_8121707707422724438_n

I used the left over filling from yesterday’s stuffed zucchini with shredded cabbage, garlic, and scallions. Sprinkled mozzarella cheese on top and sprinkled fresh chopped oregano. Yummy until I had to make the mad dash to the bathroom.  Not sure what exactly set me off. Thankfully, after the imodium handled it well. Just wish the shoulder pain would go away.

Still found myself staring at the computer.  So off again we went for a short ride and I snapped some pictures of the Thunder Moon behind the trees. Looking at the moon I remembered my grandparents waltzing to Fly Me to the Moon on their porch before my Gram became sick and ended up in a wheel chair. There was no mistaking they loved each other.DSC_0038 (2)

I had a  music crush on blue eyes (Frank Sinatra when I was young because I thought his songs always made me people happy. That’s what music is supposed to do isn’t it?  I uwas pretty lucky my grandparents loved music so I was exposed to Frank, Dean Martin and Sammy Davis or as my grandpa called them the rat pack.   He thought the media had nicknamed them right because they were good at scrambling from club to the next to perform. My grandma liked Tony Bennett and Tom Jones too. I remember hearing her sigh when Tom moved those hips.

 

 

“Fly me to the moon
Let me play among the stars
Let me see what spring is like
On a, Jupiter and Mars
In other words, hold my hand
In other words, baby, kiss me
Fill my heart with song

And let me sing for ever more
You are all I long for
All I worship and adore
In other words, please be true
In other words, I love you
Fill my heart with…”
Bart Howard, was the songwriter for ‘Fly Me to the Moon’. It was done by numerous musicians. My favorites were Frank Sinatra and Tony Bennett.
Hope your 4th of July was everything you needed and more.

letter-c day 43

/ lyncrain / 2 Comments

599160_3626847984630_607491606_n

I was remembering Vic and my early dating times as I tried to decide upon a plan with the vignettes. Do I want to do ten year time frames with random stories or do I want to group a collection of stories that show my personal growth with happier memories. I’m tired of the bad crap always getting my focus.

This picture appeared in the facebook feed. We had been in Camden, Maine driving when I asked Vic to stop so we could simply enjoy the ocean’s salty smell. We walked around the town a bit enjoying the peacefulness of a small town after the tourists have left for the season. Vic loves snapping pictures which is uncomfortable for me. Usually it’s me behind the lens taking the photograph not being the one before the lens. I feel awkward because pretty and photogenic are things that don’t apply to me.

This photograph surprised me…  he captured the introspective me and the harbor lights beautifully.  Anyway, looking at the photograph Eric Clapton’s song came to mind. Do you remember Wonderful Tonight?

My very first date in person with Vic was at DeMillo’s in Portland, Maine. I didn’t have an extensive wardrobe. Shopping was never something I enjoyed or could afford to do. I decided to wear white dress shorts, a black tank top with a red mesh sweater over the tank to dine. Vic wore an orange and blue polo shirt and khakis. We were comfortably dressed for a summer night. The restaurant was a short drive from the hotel. Our view from the table was perfect as the sun set on the ocean. The candle glowed upon our food as we talked about different things.

I still remember how special he made me feel, opening the door, taking my hand as we walked around for a bit after dinner. These may seem like small things to you but prior to him… no one opened a door for me, or took my hand or even took me to a nice restaurant. It was a perfect first date.

I don’t say or write it as often I should but Vic is a loving kind man. He’s the perfect man for me. I feel wonderful whenever we’re together even when he’s beating me in cribbage. Our time together means so much to me.

We’ve shared many dates since in fancy restaurants and some not so fancy but with good food. He teases me because I tend to want to stay with places that make me feel like I’ve come home. Like this diner near us, its not fancy looking at all. It’s owned by a Turkish family that work well together. The food choices are many and the taste is excellent. But that’s not what keeps me wanting to go again. It’s the way we feel while there… as if we’re part of their family not a customer.  They remember what we like, how it’s prepared which is awesome. The small talk we exchange is genuine prior to ordering and after makes the evening for me.  Not many fancy places make that extra effort.

“It’s late in the evening; she’s wondering what clothes to wear
She puts on her make-up and brushes her long blonde hair
And then she asks me, Do I look all right?
And I say, “Yes, you look wonderful tonight
We go to a party and everyone turns to see
This beautiful lady that’s walking around with me
And then she asks me, Do you feel all right?
And I say, “Yes, I feel wonderful tonight”
I feel wonderful because I see
The love light in your eyes
And the wonder of it all
Is that you just don’t realize how much I love you” ~ Eric Clapton

 

 

culinary

Tonight, we’re having stuffed zucchini since the ac is on. It’s humid as all get outside I don’t like running it but on days like today, it’s a necessary evil. So since we have climate control oven day it is. I wish I could say I picked the zucchini from my garden but soon. I have a buds with fruit behind them. And no more bunny or chipmunk invasions either.

More things for your culinary pharmacy-

Brazil nuts are selenium rich as well as anti-inflammatory which is helpful against colon and prostrate cancer but did you also know they’re helpful for your heart, brain and lowering your blood sugar. That’s a lot for your crunch.

Broccoli is also an anti-inflammatory. It can inhibit breast cancer growth as well as slowing leukemia and melanoma growth.

Buckwheat is another anti-inflammatory. It’s high fiber content helps regulate bowel movements as well speeding up the removal of toxins in our body.

writing:

I edited the short story that transpired from the prompt about an island suddenly appearing. I don’t know if i made it better or worse. 

Dear Johnny,

Last night, Dad shared a picture of Jacob at work with him.  Jacob was making him laugh. I’m glad for your Dad and Jacob that they have each other since you left us. You’re little brother looks so much like you. Except for one thing. He doesn’t hide his smiles like you always did.

I wish you could see Jacob choking the hammer as he nails. He looked more comfortable with the drill than he did the hammer. I wish I had taken pictures of you at that age using a hammer.

Zach has a tribute painted on the hood of both of his cars for you.  It looks so beautiful. Racing this year is crazy. The drivers and crew only at the track. No spectators allowed because of COVID-19. Zach missed a gear yesterday and didn’t finish where he hoped. I’m sure you can imagine the language that transpired.

This poem was reviewed on WDC today and it reminded me of the morning in the restaurant when you ordered my breakfast and then explained how I was wasting the waitress’s time by not knowing exactly how I wanted my food prepared. All that time you spent at the restaurant with Momma paid off. You taught us all.

two fried eggs on corned beef hash
sizzling in the pan
tantalizing my taste buds
with salty cravings
scrambled mess
bliss!

Gramma and Grandpa love you always. We miss you. Maybe when you have a chance could you rattle all the chimes again for me.

“So it’s true, when all is said and done, grief is the price we pay for love.” ― E.A. Bucchianeri

https://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/325000#heart-health

https://www.healthline.com/nutrition/benefits-of-broccoli

https://www.naturespath.com/en-us/blog/health-benefits-of-buckwheat/

Cancer Fighting Kitchen by Rebecca Katz and Mat Edelson

 

Short Story Rewrite from the prompt

/ lyncrain / Leave a comment

It began as a little girl’s wish to have a magical place of her own. She prayed fervently every night, but nothing changed. She simply stopped believing in magic. Who needs magical wishes.

Time passed, and now she was lying on her death bed waiting. She knew better than to hope for it to come quickly.

Her granddaughter burst into the room. “Grandma, there’s something you have to see.”

“I’m so tired, child.”

“But Grandma, there’s an island. It wasn’t there yesterday, but it is today. Some people are saying it’s dark magic. How can it be dark with all the beautiful flowers in bloom?.”

“Yes, child.”

“Grandma, please come to the window. I know once you see the magical island, you’ll feel better.”

She wanted to lie here. She felt so tired, her time must be near. Yet, she didn’t want to disappoint her granddaughter. She tugged with her all her might to upright herself. It took a lot for her to stand, but she made it. She grasped the nightstand table top and then the rocker until she finally made it to the window.

The sky didn’t have cloud anywhere to see.. The ocean looked ebony more than blue to her old eyes. She vaguely recalled a sailor’s warning when a sea looks deadly calm. She craned to see the bay.  There was an island with a rocky shoreline with lush green trees and flowers in every color under the rainbow. Were her eyes playing tricks on her?

“Megan, get your father, please.”

“Mom, what’s the matter?”

“Take me out to the island, son.”

“But, Mom, you’re not strong enough.”

“Charles, take me out to the island before its too late.”

Charles and Megan helped her down the stairs and across the yard. She looked like an old porcelain doll in the bright sunlight. They had to pause several times to let her catch her breath before moving on, but eventually, they made it to the pier.

“Hurry, my time is running out.”

He didn’t understand his mother’s urgency.  It had been a very long time since she had been focused on anything, let alone walk. He paddled the boat until they were deep enough to drop the motor down. He watched his mother staring straight ahead, holding Megan’s hand. The wind teased her silver strands free from the bun Megan had created for her Grandma.

“Charles, please bring the boat close enough for me to walk.”

“Give me a minute, Mom, to tie the boat off, and we’ll come with you.”

“No… No, I must go alone.”

Charles and Megan watched Grandma struggle to stand in the gentle waves.  Her frail body was hunched over her cane as she navigated to the shore.

“Dad, why can’t we go with her to help? I’m worried she’ll overdo.”

The sky darkened as they waited in the boat, He became worried. The sea became challenging in a little boat. He needed to get them back home safely. He called out to his mother, but she didn’t answer. He and Megan frantically searched for her.

Grandma was lying beside the mountain laurel. He noted the peaceful expression on her face and knew without checking, she was gone. He gently lifted his mother, surprised how little she weighed. All these years, she was a force to be reckoned with, yet at this moment, a feather weighed more.

He navigated his mom and daughter back to the mainland. The rain fiercely poured as they tied the boat to the pier. They scurried back to the house.

“Megan,  please get dry clothes. I’m going to place Grandma back on her favorite rose comforter until I can reach the coroner.”

Megan didn’t move. She waited patiently for her father to settle Grandma, then she combed her hair back in place before kissing her forehead. “I love you, Grandma.”
Megan glanced out her bedroom window. She screamed, “Dad, the island is gone.”

“What?” He ran outside.It had vanished just as Megan said, the dark sea stretched for miles with no land in sight.

 

10628262_1005639062795503_7739608798399268620_n

Response to a writing prompt

/ lyncrain / 1 Comment

An island rose from the sea

 

It began as a little girl’s wish to have a magical place of her own. She prayed fervently every night for years but nothing changed. 10628262_1005639062795503_7739608798399268620_n

Years passed and she was lying on her death bed when her granddaughter burst into the room. “Grandma look out the window, there’s something you have to see.”

“I’m to tired child.”

“But Grandma there’s an island. It wasn’t there yesterday but it is today. Everyone is talking about it, some people are saying it’s dark magic. But I don’t believe it’s dark when you can see all the beautiful flowers in bloom.”

“Yes, child.”

“Grandma, please come to the window. I know seeing all the beauty will make you feel better.”

She wanted to lie there. She felt so tired, her time must be near. Yet, she didn’t want to disppoint her granddaughter. She tugged with her all her might to upright herself. It took a lot for her to stand but she made it. She grasped the nightstand table top and then the rocker until she made it to the window.

The sky didn’t have a cloud anywhere to be seen, yet the ocean looked more like ebony than blue to her. Sailor’s beware when the sea  looks dead. She turned to look more toward the right side of the bay and there it was. An island with a rocky shore line with lush green trees and flowers in every color under the rainbow. Were her  eyes playing tricks on her?

“Megan, get your father please.”

“Mom, what’s the matter?”

“Take me to the island, son.”

“But, Mom, you’re not strong enough.”

“Charles, take me to the island before its too late.”

Charles and Megan helped her down the stairs and across the yard. She looked like an ancient porcelain doll in the bright sunlight. They had to pause several times to let her catch her breath before moving on but eventually they made it to the pier. She asked him to hurry, time was running out.

He didn’t understand his mother’s urgency but didn’t want to disppoint her. It had been a very long time since she had been focused on anything let alone be on her feet walking. He paddled the boat until they were deep enough to drop the motor down.

His mother stared straight ahead as the wind teased her silver strands free from the bun Megan had put up earlier for her grandmother.

It only took a few mintues to arrive at the island but it seemed like forever to her. “Charles, please bring me close enough to walk.”

“Give me a minute, Mom, to tie the boat off and we’ll come with you.”

“No. No, I must go alone.”

Charles and Megan watched her struggle to stand in the gentle waves. She was hunched over using on her cane to support her frail body.

“Dad, is Grandma going to make it? Why can’t we go with her to help?”

The sky changed while they waited, He was worried that a storm was brewing. He needed to get them back home safely before the seas got rough. He called out to his mother but she didn’t answer. He and Megan frantically ran ashore to look for her.

She was lying beside the mountain laurel. He noted the peaceful expression on her face and knew without checking she was gone. He gently lifted his mother, surprised how little she weighed. All these years, she was a force to be reckoned with yet in this moment a feather weighed more.

He paddled his mom and Megan back to the mainland. The rain came down fiercely as they tied the boat to the pier. They scrambled to get inside the house. He gently laid his mother on her rose comforter. Megan combed her hair before kissing her forehead.

“I love you Grandma.”

During dinner, Megan looked out the window. “Dad, the island is gone”

“What?” He ran outside and just as Megan had said the dark sea stretched for miles with no land in sight.

first draft..