The Things We Treasure
Few things are in my possession that I treasure. Over the years, it has been books, mementoes from childhood. With
Tag: Blogging U
One life to live
I step outside the garage and walk up to the car as it leaves. My fingers graze the rear end
Point of view
This is my entry to Day Eighteen of Writing 101 at The Daily Post. Today’s prompt: write this story in
Mortality
I hang up the phone. I can almost smell the disinfectant. See the dull grey of the rooms. Hear the
Lost and found: Life goes on
Balancing a load of folded clothes in my hands, I spy the letter for the twins I have to file
I was never the same again
The mountains shimmered in the evening sun. They looked gray, forsaken, eerily beautiful. The roads stretched like ribbons weaving in
In love, hopelessly.
He breezed in one Monday morning looking dapper in his business casual. I sat at my desk watching his head
Unexpected discoveries: Finding myself
I cut the conversation short. I feel relief as I continue loading the dishes. The disenchantment I feel is typed
It is a man’s world
It is a man’s world. I sit on the sofa, my baby cooing and gurgling in the bassinet in front
Nostalgia
Dusty. The tar roads felt soft to my flip-flops as I walked to the house for the first time. The
Happiness in a cup
I walk down the stairs my head throbbing from too little sleep. The smell of coffee wafts my way and
Words that paint a picture
It is a lazy Sunday morning. I step out with the coffee in my hand. The dull red brick feels
It’s all in my head
I look in the mirror as I get ready to go out for a lunch date with my husband. My
Leaving a trail of sentiments
She flitted into my life, like a butterfly one day in the past year – bright, cheerful and full of
Star-crossed
“Funny how fate plays its hand” She says wistfully looking at water lapping along the edge in front of her. She
Losses: People on pedestals
Sometimes in life, a realization so startling occurs when you least expect it. Like when you are in the shower
Meaningful Melodies
Today’s prompt over at Writing 101 takes me back a good decade or more. To a time when I had
Hurtling through the past
A place belongs forever to whoever claims it hardest, remembers it most obsessively, wrenches it from itself, shapes it, renders
Just write
It is late in the evening. My almost 2 month old is sleeping in her bassinet. My ears are tuned
