Imagine the Possibilities

I am participating in the March Slice of Life Story Challenge. Thanks to the co-authors of              Two Writing Teachers for creating this  supportive community.

Yesterday was the opening day of the baseball season and the Phillies won 10-4! I wasn’t there, but managed to catch most of it on TV, including the grand slam by Rhys Hoskins. So in honor of baseball and Poetry Friday, here’s a found poem from the words of Mike Sielski whose article appeared on the front page of the Philadelphia Inquirer this morning.

Opening Day

pomp and pageantry

a succession

of sights and scenes and sounds

an eerie silence

the crowd inhales

holds their breath

then

collective disapproval for the intentional walk

bases loaded

a 96-mph fastball rockets into the left-field seats

grand slam!

the most joyous seconds

of the most enjoyable day

of baseball

I am participating in the March Slice of Life Story Challenge. Thanks to the co-authors of              Two Writing Teachers for creating this  supportive community.

I didn’t plan to write about this today. But as I sat at my computer searching for a slice, my thoughts kept returning to our backyard neighbors. That’s when I knew I had to write about it. You see, I spent a good part of the morning at the funeral of their son.

I spent a lot of time this week looking at their house…remembering.

Although they were a little younger, our kids played together. Their yard was the access to the development behind us where our kids would ride bikes, meet up with friends, and go sledding.

I spent a lot of time this week looking at their house…wondering.

They say no one should ever have to bury a child, and I know it’s true. How could it be possible to say goodbye to someone you gave life to? To let go all too soon?

I spent a lot of time this week looking at their house…praying.

When we got to the church, the line to pay respects to the family was already down the block. We gave quick hugs to several friends as we took our place at the end of the line, which continued to grow. Friends of the young man, friends of his siblings, friends of the parents. All waiting to express sorrow and disbelief. All wanting to let them know that someone cared.

I spent a lot of time this week… thinking about life.

I am participating in the March Slice of Life Story Challenge. Thanks to the co-authors of              Two Writing Teachers for creating this  supportive community.

I love junk drawers!

Probably because I have several, maybe at least one in every room.

Probably because I never feel like cleaning them out.

Probably because they are always good for finding some treasure that will unearth a memory or two. Take for example this morning…

I opened the drawer of my desk to find a particular size Post-it and there they were – three Sanford Vis-à-vis Permanent Fine Point markers. Almost a complete set (missing the blue). And suddenly it was at least fifteen or twenty years in the past and I was getting ready for a presentation for teachers the next day. I needed overhead transparency markers (depending on your age you may or may not know what that is), and I was in a panic. Allan offered to go get the markers for me, but when he got to the store, he wasn’t sure if I needed permanent or the wet wipe kind (this was before the days of cell phones and the term dry erase), so he came home with both. The markers I had were probably left from that night many years ago, since I used the permanent markers less frequently. I don’t recall how the presentation went, but I’m certain that thanks to Allan’s kindness, my transparencies were a success.

A quick internet search helped me discover that these makers are now made by EXPO and are almost all for dry-erase boards. Those with permanent ink are probably no longer even being manufactured, although I did find them on eBay.

This morning there was an article on the front page of the paper about a chair from colonial times that a man had in his house. It was sold at auction for more than $300,000. I know my markers aren’t worth that much, but the memories are priceless.

I am participating in the March Slice of Life Story Challenge. Thanks to the co-authors of              Two Writing Teachers for creating this  supportive community.

Our rescue, Cyrus, is a love and has brought so much joy to our lives. He loves meeting new people, going for walks, and riding in the car. He rarely barks and doesn’t chew furniture or beg for table scraps. But, he has one very curious behavior that we don’t really understand…he doesn’t like feet. Mostly, my feet…and only at night.

Last night I was quietly sitting on the couch. Cyrus was lying on the floor between the couch and the coffee table. He prefers being between objects. Protected, so to speak. I got up and he immediately pounced on my feet. He hadn’t done it in a while, and I may have startled him, but there was that odd behavior again. He doesn’t bite me, just pounces, and then usually grabs his nearest toy as if I got up to grab it.

We adopted Cyrus when he was about a year old, so we don’t know much about his early life. We were told that he spent a lot of time tied up outside and that it was a neighbor who always made sure he had food and water. It was most likely that same neighbor who alerted authorities so that Cyrus was eventually removed and taken to a shelter.

Why the curious behavior? Perhaps he was kicked as a pup. Perhaps it’s at night that he remembers his fears and worries…much like humans. Perhaps he’s afraid of someone or something taking away what belongs to him. We can only guess.

A hug, a reassurance, a gentle pat is all he needs when this happens. And we are happy to oblige.

I am participating in the March Slice of Life Story Challenge. Thanks to the co-authors of              Two Writing Teachers for creating this  supportive community.

When I open my computer at the start of the day, I am greeted by a picture from the Microsoft Windows photo gallery. I love seeing scenes from different parts of the world, and often they provide a spark of an idea for a story or compel me to find out more. Like the time there was a picture from Morocco of goats sitting in argan trees. It almost looked like fake news, but it was true. Goats in Morocco really do climb argan trees to feast on the fruit. Fascinating! (There’s got to be a picture book idea in there somewhere.)

This morning I woke to a kangaroo on a beach in Queensland. There was something about the way the light illuminated the beach, or maybe it was the lone kangaroo amid a sea of sand. I had never associated kangaroos with beaches, and it was mesmerizing.

I clicked on the picture and was rewarded with a beautiful description:

As the sun rises over a wide beach facing the Coral Sea, a kangaroo arrives for a breakfast of mangrove pods and seaweed. Trails just inland from the sand curve through a large forest of mangrove and eucalyptus trees, where sugar gliders hang out during the day and sail down from the treetops at night.

Sounds like a place I will need to visit someday.