Hour 12 Prompt 12

Hour 12 Prompt 12

 

The Trees

 

Trees in front of our house died last year.

Dead leaves meant sadness on the block.

Birds shunned our trees all summer.

We watered them in vain.

We fertilized them, 

too, with, rich, foul

smelling feed

but no

good.

 

Prompt 11 Hour 11

Prompt 11 Hour 11

 

The Gumboots

 

Looking out the skyscraper window I could see

that the sky was periwinkle blue today. A cloud

drifted by, wispier and wispier. It spread itself over 

that patch of sky. Workman plodded up and down

the stairs as they worked over the storefront but 

I sat quietly waiting for their gumboots to leave

the building in silence as the new storefront featuring

needles and sourdough bread slid into place

Hour 10 Prompt 10 Epiphany

Hour 10  Prompt 10

Epiphany

 

Epiphany is one of the big three Christian holidays. 

It was a big reveal to us. It was then we Christians 

first knew, really knew that Jesus was both human 

and the Son of God, though some believe him to be 

the Sun of God. Christmas and Easter are the other 

two major Christian holidays of the big three. Epiphany, 

in the church in which I grew up we had a bonfire, 

burning those Christmas trees and we all stopped

at Arby’s for French dip sandwiches. Epiphany 

and its Revelations.

Hour 9 Prompt 9

 

Hour 9 Prompt 9

 

A Stitch in Time Saves Nine

 

Stitches. You know, those things that happen

when you thread a needle and then draw it 

through some fabric. If you have a tiny hole, 

mend it fast. If the button is about to fall off, 

add a few stitches to keep it on. If a seam has

lost a stitch or three, just go over the stitching.

But we don’t do that any more. If the button 

falls off or if the seam rips, just toss it away or

maybe put it in the  Goodwill box. A stitch in

time might save nine, but very few will find 

that out any more or even understand what it means.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hour 8 Prompt 8 The Older Sibling

Hour 8 Prompt 8

 

The Older Sibling

 

As the older sibling I felt responsible for my younger brother.

My mother didn’t tell me I was responsible, but as we walked 

to school every day, just the two of us, I was responsible. Then

my brother got hurt and I was responsible and we didn’t get to

go on our regular family vacation because my mother had to work

extra because my brother needed care. We went to meet my 

grandparents who I hadn’t met before. My mother left us with 

them and I felt more responsible for my brother. If you have a

choice, don’t be the older sibling. Be the younger one. Even if

you have to listen to the older one boss you around. It’s just easier.

 

Hour 7 Prompt 7 Normal

Hour 7 Prompt 7

 

 

Normal

 

 

 

 

No one wants to be normal as it relates to others.

Normal is boring, predictable, average or typical.

No one wants to be typical. 

Everyone, or most everyone, wants to believe 

that they live in an unusual or special kind of family. 

I don’t want to explain my family or the routines 

that we go through. I want to believe that having 

peanut butter on popcorn on Tuesdays while we watch 

Animal Banaminals makes us special, 

but I don’t want to explain it to you.  

Prompt 6 Hour 6 Taking the Air

Hour Six

Prompt 6

Taking the Air

 

When I was a child 

and my grandmother lived with us, 

she got out in the  fresh air 

nearly every day. She kept up 

with the neighborhood as she toured,

with my friends’ families and 

with the grocer in the small corner store. 

She knew before many that he was moving

to a new store. There aren’t any 

such things as corner stores anymore, 

but when I put on my sturdy shoes 

every day to stride out into 

my neighborhood on my route 

long ago planned, I think of 

my Grandmother and how 

she would lace up her special shoes 

to go out and take in the air.

 

Prompt 5 The Time Capsule

The Time Capsule

An old metal box, dirt pasted to it, sits at the side of the hole that will be the basement. I’m here, as I am every day, to check on the progress of our house. Up till the past few days there’s not much visible progress. A worker points to the box. It’s yours. Came out of a bulldozer load. A hundred or so years ago this was a cattle ranch. The neighbor knows the layout of the ranch. Sold years ago, it’s been platted into odd-sized city lots. This one, ours, is more than a lot. It goes deep into the bloci. Whoever surveyed these lots should have been fired and the lots re-surveyed. “Okay,” I say, “let’s open it.” Startled, he looks at me. Now? “Yes, now.”  He presses a bar between the top and bottom. With a twist of the bar the box opens. A moldy stuffed animal, perhaps a rabbit, is squashed inside, a crude drawing of a fence with horses  inside and a letter. It is dated 107 years before. Dear Reader, it begins, I am placing some treasurers into this special box because Daddy says we must sell our home, our ranch. This is the only place I have lived and I am twelve years old. This rabbit, Jehosaphat, is like one that lived on our ranch for years and then some wild animal got him. It’s the way of the land, I know that. Mama found him in the Sears catalog and ordered him for me.  The letter went on and I folded it to read at home. The worker reboxed the treasures for me, put them in the car and the crew returned to work. I thought of the little girl, Emily Ann, who spoke to me from her time capsule and wondered how she had lived her life. 

Prompt Hour 4 My Grandchildren

My Grandchildren

Prompt 4

 

My Grandchildren

Last line from These Unlucky Stars by Gillian McDunn

 

I love my grandchildren.

They are smart, clever, kind, generous and thoughtful.

I love my grandchildren.

They are growing into the people they will be.

I love my grandchildren.

They are themselves, they are their best selves.

And they are perfect within themselves.

And I wouldn’t change a thing.

 

Hour 3 Her Enchanted Place

Prompt 3 – Use the Image above

 

Hour 3

 

Her Enchanted Place

 

She stood on the rocks below the wind-scraped, two-story house where her grandparents had lived and where she had played beneath the bridge every summer from when she was eight or nine.  Less brush then. Rocks, big and flat, for mud pie tea parties with Sandy, her favorite doll, and Squeal, her dog. Tommy, from the next house over, had come over every day that last summer she was there and played ball with her most days or they went bike riding or fishing with Grandpa and ate sandwiches and cookies Grandma made. They didn’t know it was the last summer life was normal. The house had stood empty since she was sixteen, abandoned, to the seasons after the last renters had vacated. It was time now to sell the land. It would be cleared and divided, plots sold. She looked around her at this place, the bridge, the house on the hill and the rocks. She walked up the hill met the realtor and told her decision about her enchanted place and this plot.

1 2 3