Monday Morning

Good morning! Today I have a special event. I am going to a painting class with my father. Pastels, I believe. I am wearing a white shirt! We shall see what the results are, my shirt or the picture I produce. One should be nice! I will be posting later to share my artwork…Brave of me to say since I have no idea how it will come out but now I have to show the world…

Have a peaceful day!

One Word Sunday: Yellow

Welcome to One Word Sunday, and over to all of you to join the challenge with your own yellow post.

Yellow is a color that isn’t black or blue

It is a brighter shade of cream, a different sort of hue.

It can be found upon the back of a little bumble bee

Or at the top of some old family’s finest Christmas Tree.

It is the sun, it is the flower, it is a lump of gold.

It isn’t something hard or soft, nothing you can hold.

Can you think of one more thing that makes this color work?

I cannot think of one more thing, I’m going quite berserk.

The Sunday Whirl #427

Jimmy Joe

Jimmy Joe was ten years old and such a smart young boy 

He didn’t have much time to read or even use a toy. 

Jimmy Joe would use a light to probe his mom and dad 

For finding a new book on crime he knew his parents had. 

The book would be about the tricks that mobsters used to do 

To rob a bank or steal a car or hijack you-know-who.  

He went to bed at night at nine and woke up on one side 

He’d struggle to find where he was in the dark, he rarely liked to hide. 

His parents designed a new sort of game that Jimmy Joe did love 

He had to start with both his hands inside of just one glove.  

He’d go and ask his grandma for a nickel and a dime 

He’d take those coins and shake them in a bottle full of slime.  

Conducting labs with salt and coins was such a silly time 

He had to finish all this mess before he heard the chime.  

The chime was there to tell him that he had to finish up 

The slime, he’d pour it in his hand and then into a cup. 

The moral of the story is that Jimmy Joe did find 

That making a mess and cleaning it up was on his parents’ mind.  

One day at a time

So many of you know that I lost my son this past summer. I will never be the same. I lost my husband last year and I wasn’t the same after that. Losing my son is so different and this first year, all the “firsts” are the hardest. His birthday is coming up. He would have been twenty. I cry everyday. I write so that I have some outlet.

I have met a few women who have lost their sons too. I constantly think about all of the parents who have lost children. Sandy Hook. Cancer. Accidents. I cannot comprehend the purpose that losing a child could possibly have. I am told that God has reasons for what happens. I believe that. If He had taken my son first, my husband would have never survived losing his son. But I continue to question, why? Why my son? Why, after just losing his father?

I have a beautiful relationship with my daughter that I cherish more than I ever knew I could. I have a wonderful partner who holds me when I cry, laughs when I do something silly, and just sits and listens to my endless jabbering or story telling. I am thankful for what I have.

I guess the hardest part of all this, besides the pain of a broken heart, is that the rest of the world continues and moves forward while you sit in agony and watch time pass by. I am still trying to live my life, I have to, there really is no other choice. But when someone asks “how are you?”, what am I really supposed to say?

Weekend Writing Prompt

Twilight: 44 words or less

What is twilight but a time between light and dark? Is it twilight all of the time as the world rotates and it occurs somewhere at each moment? Is my twilight the same as the twilight a mile away, ten miles, 100 miles away?