Yearly Archives: 2013

Chime of death: 7:00 pm – 100 word challenge

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The ticking of a clock incessantly echoed through the house, but where did the noise come from?  She lived alone since the divorce and the only clock she owned was on her phone.  Her bare feet made no sound on the hardwood floors as she stealthily crept from room to room, seeking the source of the mysterious disquiet.  The ticking grew louder and, as she entered the bedroom, the blast hit her before she could see the illuminated time on the device.

He waited across the street in his parked car.  Their divorce would not give her the final say.

***

Written for the 100 Word Challenge.   I love finding new challenges!!   If you haven’t seen this one already – give it a try!

Sssssssending a messsssage

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Slightly over ten years ago I listened to a voice mail that would rock the world in which I lived.  I was nearing the end of my work day and called home to see if my best friend had left a message to say she had returned home safely to Halifax from her vacation in England.  The message that I received was nothing like what I expected.  I played the message one more time, listening carefully to the Newfoundland accent to make sure I heard it correctly, and the handset of the phone fell out of my hand and hit the desk.  I stood in utter disbelief as the horror of the words slowly transformed themselves into my new reality.  Sandra had passed away.

While on her holiday, she had burned her leg on a propane heater and, unbeknownst to anyone, had been exposed a form of bacteria that would take her life several hours after she stepped on the plane.   She had been infected with the Staphylococcus bacteria which presented as Necrotizing Fasciitis, better known as the Flesh Eating Disease.

I flew to Halifax to be with her mom and to attend her funeral.  I did my best to articulate the words I had written for her eulogy and can still remember how much my legs shook behind the podium as I tried to capture and convey her beautiful spirit with my words.

When I returned home from the most emotionally draining experience of my life, I was confronted with the most terrifying experience of my life.  This picture was taken of the window in the entrance way to my house.  The glass spans 45 inches and this charming creature was folded in half basking in the sunshine between the two panes of glass.

snake

This Eastern Milk Snake meandered its way up the window casing and into the ceiling of the entrance way.  I’m sure by now you have surmised that I did NOT sleep in my house for a few nights, but knew I couldn’t abandon my home.  I moved back in and am still hoping it wasn’t long before it moved out.

After a few weeks I didn’t give it another thought but last week all of that changed.  No, it did not resurface, but I was sharing my story with a friend and she told me that a snake symbolizes rebirth.  Suddenly my perspective on that whole experience changed.  Perhaps Sandra found a way, a terrifying and unique way, to let me know that she was okay.  Maybe she was trying to impart her acceptance of her fate and let me know that her soul felt reborn.

Messages are everywhere – we just need to learn how to see them and interpret them.  I am sure now that Sandra somehow managed to guide that reptile to my house to send a message in a way that nobody else could.  She was as distinctive in death as she was in life and I still miss her every day. (Sandra, in case you are reading this – if you are going to send further communication, any other form of message would be greatly appreciated!!)

After the storm – Trifecta Challenge

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From her loft she could see the crown of the hill.  The wind had gnarled the trees and tried to tether their branches but their trunks remained rooted in defiance.  The storm lost.

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(image credit: topleftpixel.com)

Written for the weekend Trifextra Challenge:

This weekend we’re asking for 30 of your own words plus the three following words for a total of 33 words.
Tether Loft Crown

The blessing of blogging

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I had a voice message yesterday on my phone that was overwhelmingly special.  A dear friend who has been struggling with some health issues left a message for me that brought tears to my eyes and I listened to it a few times because it was so sweet.  She had been having a bad day and, without getting into detail, she was directed to my blog and phoned to tell me how much she loves what I write.  She has been a follower for a while, but for some reason she was drawn to it yesterday and called to tell me how much it means to her to read what I have written and how my words seem to mirror her own.

During those times that I am consumed with words, when I am overcome with the desire to write, I never really take the time to consider how my writing can affect other people.  I’ve always written to free the ideas but never thought about how those ideas are absorbed on the other side of this blogosphere.  It was really heart-warming to get that message and realize that words convey many messages to many people.

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Linda, thank you for your message.  I hope God hears all of your words, and the ones I added in, and I hope the sun shines on your beautiful face for a very long time.  xo

Turning left

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From mid-June to Labor Day weekend, for all intents and purposes, I live in a city.  Our dormant, sleepy town of 1000 grows exponentially with the summer residents who flock to Muskoka and our numbers burst at the seams sometimes feeling like 50,000 residents.  Unfortunately, unlike a city, we are not blessed with more than one lane of traffic in each direction so something as simple as turning left onto the main street is most often unforgiving and arguably frustrating.

To keep up with the non-stop stream of unfamiliar faces, local stores expand their business hours to keep up with the ever-increasing population.  Faces I recognize can only be found shopping for groceries after 9:00 pm long after the collective band of tourists have closed themselves behind their expensive doors for the night.

I wrote a post about how life changes in our little gem of a town but yesterday my world regained some semblance of normal.  Yesterday I drove away from work knowing that my drive home was going to be different.  My car meandered through the canopy of trees that mark my way home and when I got to the end of the road something magical happened.  The echo of my car signal bounced through the car as I looked left and right and saw nothing.  There was no waiting, only foot to the gas, the easing out of the clutch and a seamless entry onto the main street.  I felt my demeanor change instantly because I knew we had survived another summer.

empty streets

(image credit: margaretperry.org)

As I drove through town I looked at the lakes on either side of the bridge.  There was no congestion on the lakes or a myriad of boats fighting for docking space.  I’m sure if I stepped out of my car there would only be the distant hum of a lone engine or two.  Peace had swallowed our town and digested any remnants of the craziness from the last two months.  The silence will be short, however, as the masses will return for weekends until Thanksgiving, but, until then, locals can finally have a chance to regroup, to de-stress and to enjoy the sounds of nature that have evaded us for two months.

Everlasting – Trifextra challenge

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Souls met across time

Bonded by their destiny

Love follows its fate

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(image credit: deviantart.com)

Written for the weekend Trifecta Challenge:  This weekend’s prompt comes from Hello, Cheney, whose lapse in memory was a
happy accident for us.  This weekend we’re asking you to harken back to your
grade school days and write a haiku.  No word restrictions, just stick to the
structure as defined below.  And check out Cheney’s turkey post
for an example.

HAIKU
(noun)

: an unrhymed verse form of Japanese origin having three lines
containing usually five, seven, and five syllables respectively

The lazy, hazy days of summer

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The first of September is tomorrow which can only signify one thing – summer is coming to a close and the long weekend has arrived.  I find sad irony in the term long weekend – the only people who truly find it long are the people who work on those weekends.  For the people who reap the benefit of being able to enjoy that three-day holiday, the time sails by and the weekend seems much shorter than it should.

I am one of those people who works the whole weekend, but at the end of that three-day craziness lies the light at the end of my sanity tunnel.  The days that travel by in a whirlwind slow their pace and I can reconnect with the long-lost principle of spare time.   The thing I honestly miss the most are the hours that are set aside for writing and reading blogs.  I feel a part of me has been missing and I feel a strained connection with my blogging friends.

In a few short days (who’s counting?  Oh, right….I am) I will be able to snuggle up on the couch, wine in hand, and lose myself in the words that have eluded me over the past few months.  I miss the humor, I miss the satire and I just miss the words.

I apologize to all of you who are enjoying your long weekend, but bring on Tuesday!!

Pay It Forward

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I just watched the movie of the same name again with a young Haley Joel Osment and was as overwhelmed with the movie today as I was when it first came out.  What a concept.  For those of you that have not seen the movie, I highly recommend it – and for those of you that have seen it, watch it again.

A young boy’s social studies assignment is to come up with a concept that could change the whole world and to put it into action.  His idea is so simple, yet so possible.  It begins with one good deed done for three separate people.   Instead of that favor being repaid, the favor is paid forward to three other unsuspecting, but deserving people.  The ripple effect of such a simple gesture could be remarkable!

The trajectory of human existence could be put into a whole new orbit.  The onus is on you to start the ripple – the rest is putting your faith in others to continue the journey that you began.  Imagine if the human race could single-handedly make the world a better place to live by putting our faith in each other and believing that such a small gesture could make such a vast difference.

It is certainly worth pondering for more than just a fleeting second.  What if the favor you bestow on someone today could start that ripple?  Kindness begets kindness…what we sow, so shall we reap.  But what if we let others reap what we have sown, and pass on that kindness to someone you may never cross paths with?

Pay it forward.  Impart your generosity to someone less fortunate with only one covenant.  They need not pay you for the kindness you have shown them.  Ask them instead to look favorably on someone else in need of that same benevolence that you have shared. The world can seem like an unfriendly and threatening place, but if we could change the outlook on life for three people and they, in turn, do the same, perhaps we can make a difference and make our world a much better place.

Don’t believe everything you think

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My brain plays tricks on me.  It sometimes deceives me into believing falsities that are so far from the truth it’s astounding.  I have a real knack for over-thinking, for seeing things unlike they really are and for creating sub-realities of truths I believe to be factual.

I am not delusional by any means, but I read too far into the most minute of details and things affect me on a much grander scale than they should.  If I forget to do something at work, I obsess over how it will affect my fellow employees when, in truth, it is a minor hiccup in the larger air pocket of the day.  I will churn words over and over again in my head – words that escaped my lips and perhaps fell on deaf ears, but words that I wish I would have said differently.  I over-think how those words could have been presented although time has already marched over those words and left them behind,  buried in the footprints of the past.

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(image credit: salon.com)

In this regard, I am my own worst enemy.  Or at least the firing neurons in my thought processes are my worst enemy.  I must not believe everything I think.  I must learn that perspective is an individual thing and not everyone sees or hears the things I do in the same way.  I read too much into people’s reactions.  I over-analyze every word until those words are beaten into submission, yet they still torture me in my sleep and continue to hover above my pillow in my waking hours.

I am on a crusade to teach myself to let those things go – to not dwell on the things I cannot change and to accept things at face value.  The drama will continue to play on in my head but I must remember to not believe everything I think.

Of Mice and Alarm Clocks

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Living in an old out-building of a farmhouse has its perks.  My house has character.  My house has a unique look that will never resemble the cookie-cutter variety of subdivision homes but my house also comes with unwanted roommates who do not pay any rent.

My humble abode is home to a few wasps nests, a veritable plethora of spiders and an array of undefined insects that have yet to be identified on Google.  My basement resembles something akin to the Red Room in Amityville Horror and the holes in the foundation outweigh the number of windows and doors that access the main floor of my dwelling.

For the past six mornings, at precisely 5:30 am, mice, or a similar sub-species of rodent, have entered my home through those portals and begun to prepare for the foreshadowing winter.  My peaceful slumber has been rudely interrupted by the scurrying of tiny clawed feet and the incessant chewing that comes with building a nest.  There is no soft music to ease me from my sleep, merely the echoed sounds of ravenous vermin slowly dissecting the inner sanctum of my shelter.

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(image credit: roundedoff.com)

As I lie in the comfort of my bed, wrapped in my duvet with my dog sleeping by my feet, several thoughts formulate in those moments before dawn actually meets the day.  I imagine myself engaging in a battle, riot gear at the ready for an all-out war against the dextrous creatures but then reality sets in.  Apart from ripping through the drywall to catch the furry infidels in the act, I am at their mercy.  My best defence is the pounding of my fists on the wall at the location where the noise resonates.  There is an angered rebuttal from the other side of the drywall and the chewing continues.  After many botched attempts to dissuade the whiskered pests from literally eating me out of house and home, I resign myself back to my bed and pull the pillow over my head to drown out the sound of my walls disintegrating.

There will come a day that my alarm clock will once again gently rouse me from my dream state and replace the sound of minute mammal incisors depleting the layer of gypsum board that helps to hold the roof over my head.  Until that day I can only hope those tiny furry creatures will understand the rules of mortgage payments and interest and leave their contribution before they begin another day of padding their nest with my drywall.