Category Archives: love

What I learned about giving thanks

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This weekend is Thanksgiving for me and my fellow Canadians.  I have enjoyed many family celebrations and each year that we are able to get together for a family gathering, we are all thankful for those moments and for the people in our lives.  This year I was given a truly different perspective on what it means to be genuinely thankful.

Each October the family I work for invites their extended family to the lodge for Thanksgiving.  And each year, one of the older couples ventures North for the holiday with their foster children.  This year there are five of them.  Over the last fifteen years, a myriad of young faces have come and gone through the lodge but the expression on each of those faces, I’m sure, is the same.  It is the look of hope.  The joy and sense of togetherness they feel, on this weekend in particular, hopefully renews their faith in family.

There have been so many stories told of what these poor children have endured throughout their young lives.  These foster children are survivors of terrible atrocities that no human, much less a child, should ever have to experience.  With the love of their foster parents, these children are given a chance to, not only succeed but, be part of a family tradition that they may never have experienced in their troubled past.

Selfishly throughout my life I have silently thanked God for the bounty we are about to receive, having never given any thought to what I really should be thankful for but my perspective has been altered.  This Thanksgiving I am thankful for people like Marilyn and Fred – people who open their homes and their hearts to give a child a second chance for a life full of love and family.

This will be one of my most memorable Thanksgiving weekends and I look forward to seeing that same look of hope on some new faces next year.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone.

Guess my name – Trifextra Challenge

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His eyes had sinister charm and I was drawn to him.  He was precisely my type.  I was pleased to meet him but he would be like the others.  No names were exchanged.

***

Written for the Trifextra weekend challenge –

This week we’re asking for 33 of your own words inspired by this classic song by The Rolling Stones.  Good luck!

Add your link here!

– See more at: http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/#sthash.9qsmxueq.dpuf

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

You could be

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You could be the one I was meant to be with

You could be the one I think of as I fall into my dreams

You could be my waking thought

You could be the one I want to share my laughter with

And you could be the shoulder I was meant to cry on

You could be the one who appreciates my strengths

And you could be the one to challenge my weaknesses

You could be the soul that was searching for mine

You could be

You could be the sun in my cloudy day

You could be the rain in my drought

You could be my voice of reason

And you could be the balance in my scale

You could be the one I turn to in times of stress

You could be the voice that makes me smile

You could be the one who makes me believe in fate

And you could be the one I should have met years ago

You could be

Blue Shoes – A picture is worth 1000 words challenge

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Written for the Weekly Writing Challenge

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Photo by Michelle Weber

She liked to call it the Magic Wall.  The reflection in the window changed each time she spun around and always showed something vastly different from her reality but the thought of life beyond her prison made her smile.  She had always had a vivid imagination for a child.  Everyone told her that.  She loved to live in worlds in her mind, far removed from the day-to-day life in which she found herself immersed.  The chain link fences and concrete yards were a harsh world for an orphan.  She was convinced that only she could see the colors on the carousel and that one day the animals would come to life and take her out of this dark place.

Although her Hello Kitty jeans were new, she could feel the cement on her feet through the holes in her shoes as she pushed once again to spin around and see what the magic wall would reflect.  The windows of the house were beautiful and she could almost smell the scent of pine coming from the trees.  This was no ordinary house.  She knew this house was a home.  Inside of those walls lived laughter and love and warmth.  She wanted so much to find a home – something far removed from the brick building and cold walls where she spent countless days waiting to be found.  She knew that home had a mom who baked cookies.  She knew that home was where hugs were given freely and where tears were wiped away by something other than the back of her own hand.

The lifeless creatures held fast to their position as she spun once more.  As the carousel came to a stop she noticed that the image in the window had not changed.  Never before had she seen the same picture twice.   She turned the disk a quarter turn so she was no longer facing the wall that she now thought was broken.  She pondered what this signified. Was the magic gone?  Would the colors of the creatures cease to exist and her world become monochromatic?

She heard the high-heels clicking on the pavement before she saw anyone approaching.   Slowly she looked up to see the woman in the pretty blue shoes.  She was positive she had seen this lady before and seeing the brilliant color on those shoes made her realize that the palette of her world was not going to be shades of grey.  The woman was speaking to her and it took a moment for the words to filter through her ears to her brain.  She was no longer an orphan.  This woman with the brilliant royal blue shoes wanted to take her home and give her a family.

Happiness traveled through every part of her small child-like frame.  She spun around again and again, giggling as the blue shoes raced past her vision each time she circled by the woman who came to save her.  As the ride slowed and finally came to a stop she looked at the magic wall for the last time.  The reflection in the window showed nothing more than the chain link fence and corrugated sheet metal that had surrounded the only playground she had ever known.  The woman stood next to her and they grasped each others hand.  As they left the playground, the woman pulled out a picture of where they would live together.  It was the house from the magic wall.   She could see the warm light cascading from the windows in the photo and already felt like she was home.

She glanced over her shoulder as they rounded the corner and took one last look at the carousel.  The faded grey and white characters that had once been so vivid in her head now appeared as they truly were.  She was sure she saw one of them wave good-bye but she was too focused on the most beautiful blue shoes she had ever seen.

A battle of wills

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Whether I label it the “Defense of Defecation” or “The Protection of Poop”, either moniker defines the depth of how stubborn my dog can be.  In an earlier post I described the trauma she experienced last Thursday by running into a branch and puncturing her shoulder.  She is in a medi-vest and has a cone on her head which has led to our morning routine being completely altered.

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Most mornings Callaway had free reign of the nearly three acres we call home.  She chased squirrels, followed the scent of whatever vermin have graced our property in the wee hours and did her morning business where nobody could see her while I enjoyed a coffee on the deck.  That has all changed.

Each morning we now go out together, Callaway on a leash, me without coffee, and we attempt to find an appropriate spot for her to relieve herself.  To most dogs this is a mundane task that they are willing to do almost anywhere.  Not my dog.  Since the “incident” we spend an HOUR each morning, fighting off mosquitos and Deer Flies, trying to find a spot that she deems worthy and protected enough to be able to empty her bowel.  She will never shit on my lawn – that is an inarguable truth.  She will regard me with great disdain each time we circle the lawn, me with hopes that her opinion on this will change, she holding strong to her right to defile the back woods in anonymity.

The battle of wills continues.  Woman vs Dog.  The morning stand-off.  But she will always win because I am a pushover when it comes to my puppy dog.  Armed with only a hoodie and my good intentions, I shall respectfully follow her to where no man should go and turn a blind eye while she chooses the perfect spot to have her morning movement in peace.

Trauma in the wee hours

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As I do every morning, I awoke to the smiling face of my dog and we began our morning routine.  Coffee in my hand, we went outside and our first sight was a ravaged bag of garbage that a raccoon had left strewn about my entrance way.  This piqued Callaway’s interest and she was eager to get off the deck and chase the over-sized vermin to defend her territory.

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Within moments of being in the bushes her cry pierced the morning air and my heart began an incessant rapid beat that sent me into high alert.  I had assumed that the raccoon had performed some ninja moves and lacerated my dog’s face and I immediately threw on my running shoes and bounded off the deck, shovel in hand, ready to pummel the furry ninja with my weapon of choice.

I was ill-prepared for the gaping wound in her chest that was bleeding fairly profusely.  Callaway gingerly limped back to the deck and I noticed a 3/4 inch hole just above her left front leg.  She had run into a branch at top speed and the result had left her fairly immobile.  My First Aid training came flooding back and I applied pressure to stop the bleeding. After several calls to the answering service for the vet I created a makeshift bandage and lifted her 85 pound frame into the car for the hour-long journey to see the doctor.

The vet was remarkable.  He ushered her in immediately and assessed the wound.  Without being able to tell if the stick caused further damage, Dr. Jones made the time to examine her further and offered to keep her for the morning so they could stitch and dress the wound properly.  His colleague has also offered to have her as a passenger for the hour ride back to their local office where I can pick her up later.  It’s comforting to know that medical professionals have as much compassion and concern for my dog as I do.

I am back home now getting ready to go to work and am anxiously awaiting a call to find out the extent of the damage.  I miss her already but I know she is in good, caring hands and she will be home soon.

To my mom – Trifextra Challenge

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Your strength and tenacity plagues yet amazes me.  You defy the odds of modern medicine and diagnosis.  Despite expectation you continue to thrive and live to see another day.  The gates will wait.

~

Written for the weekend Trifecta Challenge and dedicated to my mom who is in failing health, but continues to fight with every ounce of her determination.

The challenge is this:  Last weekend we gave you a super prescriptive prompt.  We also promised you we’d ease up this week.  As such, this weekend we are asking for a thirty-three word free-write.  Any topic, any style–just give us your best thirty three.

A Broken Heart

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There are three things I know about a broken heart.  The first is it will heal.  The second is it will heal.  The third is it will heal.

~

Written for the weekend Trifextra challenge:  This weekend we are asking you to play around with the following quote:

Three things in human life are important. The first is to be kind. The second is to be kind. And the third is to be kind. –Henry James

We want you to follow the same general structure of the above quote.  Feel free to change the subject–tell us what’s important about coffee or houseplants or whatever you’d like.  Or else change up the modifier–instead of telling us what’s important, tell us what’s sexy or overrated or pernicious.  Your last three lines should closely echo James’s, giving us the same answer three times. – See more at: http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/#sthash.7JTIHbF7.dpuf

Lucky number three – Trifextra post

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She waited at the gates for her turn.  She had been reincarnated twice before and found him late in her last life.  Their souls were destined for love.  Third time is the charm.

~

Written for the Trifextra post: On to the new prompt.  This weekend we’re asking for 33 of your own words inspired by the idiom, third time’s the charm.  This familiar phrase may have an indeterminate origin, but its meaning is clear.  Whether or not you include the phrase itself is up to you.  Just make sure to use exactly 33 words.  And, as usual, have fun with it!