Category: Short Story

Toddler Wanderings

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My beautiful son Robert Andrew- 11 months

Stop and smell the Roses?

*Crunch, crunch, crunch*

Familiarly, I welcomed the sound of his little shoes scraping the gravel; reminding me of the siblings before him, and their not so little feet anymore. The sun was bearing down on us heavily, as my eyes scanned the garden for a shaded place to lounge. The river brought a comforting breeze allowing the fragrant smell of grass, and flowers to greet  us.

“Dat mama?” — His way of curiously asking me what a tiny insect creeping hurriedly across a large rock was. This insect or bug, I had never seen before, camouflaging itself within the patterns of the rock so skillfully.

“Well it’s some form of creature, I am not sure what to call it.” I smiled and nodded, as if I were satisfied with not knowing, looking back I wish I had captured a photo and learned about that little fellow.

“Would you like to name it?” I asked Robert, gently.

“Yeah.” He nodded his head. “Dadu.”

Continuing his journey, he ran up paths, and down again, while pulling his hand away because he wants to be so independent. “I do it.” He shouts, while running to wherever his eyes found delight.

“Pretty.” He shouted as we walked past the flower bushes.

Robert loves flowers and birds! We stopped to glance at the flowers, admiringly, as he plucked a flower for his sister and ran to bring it to her; however he decided on the way, he’d rather keep it. A rose bush stood just a few inches away and caught his attention; although it was covered in thorns. Not an ounce of fear stood between him and this bush. He calmly leaned forward grabbing a branch and smelled it “Ahhhh” Robert sighed as he glanced at me with a great big smile.

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I could see the light in him, that joy and excitement when you discover something satisfying for the first time. We adults have it now and then but we tend to abuse it and take away the delight.

It’s like having a favorite food, but you eat it too much and then you grow weary of it. 

My Mother used to always tell me “everything in moderation” and she was right.

When you are constantly doing the same things day after day, night after night; you will grow cold, tired, and bitter. Learning and discovering are meant to take your whole life, we’ve never arrived, we are always on a journey, we are always adapting or evolving.

Following around my little boy reminded me of the lens I forgot to look through, that dusty old lens I tossed away. I thank everything living spiritually or physically for our young, they are blessings sent to teach us many things we thought useless while we got distracted.

Until next time

stay blessed xo

Josette

 

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Wintry Decline

Blow, blow, thou winter wind Thou art not so unkind, As man’s ingratitude.
My age is as a lusty winter, frosty, but kindly.
Now is the winter of our discontent.  ~William Shakespeare
She always articulates her parting with a twinge; does she not? Here’s my expression of her departure.~ Josette ❤
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#BlizzardStella from my back yard South Bronx March 14, 2017
Stranded, bellowing encircling seductively, kindred essence of the malevolent; yet enchantingly, she stays
Nipped, rasping endearments embracing bitterly, kin to the seams of the quill; yet enchantingly, she plays
Partaken, gelid drops diminishing sluggishly, tastelessly, ally from the arctic abyss; yet enchantingly, she sways
*Footnotes- So what motivated me? Obviously the view 😀 and these lovely sounds-
Winter Sounds and of course quotes from Shakespeare!

Ten Quote Tuesday Writing Prompt: “I don’t remember my birthdays.”

Here are the choices:

Writing Prompts

  • Include all these elements into a scene: sports tickets, a candle, discouragement, and drawing.
  • Have a scene with a self-conscious politician.
  • Start your scene with this line: I don’t remember my birthdays.

Here is the original post for the writing prompts: http://ryanlanz.com/2015/01/13/ten-quote-tuesday-23/comment-page-1/#comment-4941

I drew inspiration for the protagonist from my own loss. My Mom passed in 2010.

          I don’t remember my birthdays anymore. I’ve left them behind the day the woman who gave me life was gone. What good would this day do me; if all it did was remind me of her? I lay in bed trying to avoid every person who knew this day once existed. Why did they feel the need to torture me with their joy? Their smiles burned holes in my soul like acid. I just want to sleep until tomorrow; I’ll come out of my cave when this pain has passed over me.
They can have the cake; the wishes; even the god damn balloons. They are the ones who want that stuff anyway. “Go ahead, eat your fucking cake, and blow out the damn candles.” You can take this day as your own, then you’ll have two days to celebrate. Please don’t search for me, I never sent an S.O.S.
Curled in a ball like a fetus again with the blankets over my head to drown the sun; I can see her image in my mind. She smiles at me, and I could hear her voice so clear. “Happy Birthday.” Oh this mind has become my enemy too; it won’t let me forget the memories of you. I do not wish to surrender to this joy. Why are you trying to make me feel? The numbness is what has kept me alive. To feel is to remember, and I do not want to go to that place again.
Slumber calls me after the agony of existing awake on this god forsaken day. Sleep gives me peace, it is the only place I am free from everything. The clouds dance in the sky above; while the birds sing in harmony. I sit in the sun alone, I am free. I rise to my feet, and run. I run so fast like I was late for something but I didn’t know what.
Awake so suddenly to the sound of birds singing outside the window. Alas, the day has passed. I made it again! I don’t know how long I can keep this up but for now I will take this success. I can live beyond the day that once connected us two. Never, will you find me celebrating apart from the woman who gave me life. That was our day, a day she loved to remember.

Written By: Josette Hansen
Pseudonym Adinah Schramm
Copyright ©

The News

This is for the writing prompt “Ten Quote Tuesday.” I chose the quote: “It had been at least a minute since he last blinked.”
Here is a link to the original post: Ten Quote Tuesday

     It had been at least a minute since he last blinked; he sat in silence across the table. She tried to imagine what was going on inside his head. “Would he be happy to be a Father again?” She was afraid to say another word. His expression; heck, his reaction scared her.
     She swallowed her last piece of bread slowly, and cleared her throat, ahem. She was hoping he would look at her, but he didn’t. “Are you not happy?” She finally blurted out; her heart was racing.
     The fire snapped; breaking his long trance with the candle flame. He placed his napkin gently on his plate, and rose from his seat; a smile emerging upon his face. “Of course I’m happy.”
     He walked over to her, grabbing her hands. He lifted her up from her seat, and lay kisses on her eyes. “I’m more than happy love.” He hugged her tightly. “Come let’s tell the children.”

Written by: Josette Hansen
Pseudonym Adinah Schramm
Copyright ©2014

Forgive and Forget

     They say when you forgive, you’re supposed to forget. Kind of like wiping the slate clean; a fresh start. I think that it is easier with some people; as opposed to others. You know the kind I speak of. They are the ones who are always apologizing for the same shit. Yeah, those ones.
     He spent his nights seeking pleasure in other places; even after she had given all of herself to him. It was like it wasn’t enough! He’d just take pieces of her continually, and never be satisfied.
He took her far out of her comfort zone, and then left her to drown. She sunk so many times, gasping, trying to find her way back but she couldn’t.
     His drunken nights grew beyond number, and turned into drunken days. She found herself being caught in the middle of violence on a regular basis. There were days she would hide from him outside because she was so embarrassed of him in public. She just didn’t know when she’d escape.
     She’d been lost so long in his sea of turmoil that she forgot who she was. She turned into someone she couldn’t recognize anymore. It was like all life had left her. She came to her senses and realized what she needed to do. Little by little she returned; as joy found her heart again.
     She said she forgave but she could not forget. Every time she looked at him all she saw was violence. The man who promised he’d protect her, neglected her, took advantage of her. She tried to remember the good things about him but they were a fading shadow in the distance. They were so far gone, and snuffed out by his violence.
      She knew the time had come to let go of him, it was the only way she could heal. It was the only way to forgive, and forget. Distance was the only thing that could help. So she let go of the one who gave his word to protect her; after all he broke his vows.

Granda’s Story

     Smoke and ale lingered in his nostrils since childhood. They were his familiar place. He became an orphan before his thirteenth birthday. Raised by his brother. He tried to keep busy working to help.
     World War II had arrived, and he found himself being shipped off to Europe. He had witnessed things he could never erase from his mind. He took comfort in alcohol, as his Father, and Grandfather before him. His body survived the war but his mind didn’t. He returned home more broken than before.
     He met a beautiful woman, and had children with her. These children he would barely see grow. Alcohol consumed him, and removed him from everyone he loved. He would learn being alone was what he had learned to do best. Never realizing the ripples he would create with his choices.
     He died alone in his bed, the young age of forty-eight. Oh why did he have to be alone? Why couldn’t he had just hung on a little longer? To see his grandchildren. They would have loved him right through it all. They’d have seen past his demons long enough to comfort his aching heart.
     Alcohol you may claim this family no longer. They are stronger now, they are ready to stomp out years of a repeated cycle. They will win the victory for their ancestors who couldn’t.