Sarah's Prompt: My Real Name is .... Part one

I came upon it unexpectedly. Grandmother had passed away and after everyone had sorted through all her stuff and grabbed anything that seemed to have value - her ruby earrings, the grandfather clock in the hall, the silver candlesticks, the bone china, all the good stuff. I was left with the rest. That was part of Grandmother’s will. I was to let them take everything that anyone else in the family wanted. Pleasantly, joyfully, she hadn’t specified that it was to be that way but I was certain that was what she wanted. So that was what I had done. I had smiled and helped them carry out boxes and baskets with all of her pretty things.
When they were done sorting through it all we were to return to the attorney’s office and they each had to sign a document claiming that they would have no further rights to her property, known or unknown. It had, at the time, seemed dismally unfair. After all the only thing left were her old clothes, the house, leaky roof, creaky floor and all the many repairs it would need, Tabitha, her cat and boxes of old lover letters, old photos and what-nots and some not so pretty knick knacks. Essentially they had cleaned her out and left me with what seemed to be a mess.
That’s what we did. There was no question about other property or holdings and such. Grandmother had lived in that particular house for the last 45 years, 22 of them alone after my grandfather had died. There were no secrets. Things were pretty much the same day after day. Everyone knew all about the hard lives they had lived out in the country after moving to America from Europe. They had come over with my grandfather’s four brothers and their wives and children. They had moved to Minnesota first but after a few years decided it was too cold. They had struck out on their own and moved south to East Texas.
They had bought some land and built a little house and raised four brothers, along with various farm animals including but not limited to goats, chicken, cows, an occasional pig and from time to time a turkey or goose depending on what Grandmother thought she might like for Christmas dinner.
I was the only granddaughter and my grandmother had doted on me. She would let me cook with her and run errands with her. I would spend the night at least once a week even in my late teens. When I was very young she would stay in my bed until I was fast asleep whispering songs I didn’t understand and telling me stories of countries and castles far away.
My grandfather had died when I was seven. I didn’t really have many memories of him. He was always working around the land when I was there. I remember seeing him only a few times without a long sleeved cotton shirt on and was amazed to see how strong and muscular his arms were. He had sky blue eyes that always sparkled when my grandmother was near. I remember coming down the stairs for breakfast one morning, I could hear them laughing and when I turned the corner they were dancing in the kitchen. He always called her La Contessa and she always called him Amore.
The attorney had asked me to remain after everyone left.
“I assume you have a passport?” He asked. I laughed because of course I did. Grandmother had insisted upon it.
“You should always have a current passport; you never know when you might be taking off into some exciting international adventure.” Her eyes always twinkled and she would smile grandly as if she was hiding some secret.
“Yes, yes I do.” I replied to my grandmother’s attorney
“Oh good. Here are your plane tickets. All your travel arrangements have been made. You will be leaving for Switzerland in two weeks. That should give you plenty of time to take care of anything you need to take care of here. Any questions?” He looked at me as if what he had just said was the most natural thing in the world. Any questions?
“Yes, Yes I do.” I know I just said that but the answer was the same. I do have a passport and now all of a sudden I’ve got a heck of a lot of questions. “I don’t think I understand. Why am I going to Switzerland? And how long will I be gone? And what is this all about? And I’m sorry do you have perhaps a bit more information you can share besides the day the plane is leaving?” Starting to talk quite a bit faster than normal, I do that when I get nervous.
“Well, you are going to Switzerland because your grandmother has requested that you go there to meet with a banker, an attorney and a certain clockmaker. I don’t know why, I only have limited information myself. From what I understand you will be gone a minimum of three weeks. You will be traveling from Switzerland to Vaduz, Lichtenstein by train. Once there I understand you are to meet with the curator at National Museum. You will present him with documentation you get in Switzerland. He will attend to whatever other appointments need to be made while you are there. After you are done there you are to proceed to The Most Serene Republic of San Marino. This very tiny country is located in and completely surrounded by Italy. Apparently you will find out who you are to meet there while you are either in Switzerland or Lichtenstein. And that my dear is all the information I possess.” He paused. “Oh and I’m to give you this.” He handed me an envelope from a bank in Dallas. “I believe you will find sufficient funds to take you on your journey.”
I walked out into the always too bright Texas sunshine but I was dazed not from the sun but from everything I’d just heard in the attorney’s office. He had asked that I come in and see him upon my return to we could attend to whatever other matters needed to attending to.
Luckily thing I had my passport so I could set out on my exciting international adventure!

Sarah's prompt: Everything Looked Different

Nine days. When they had sent her home they had told her to get some rest but she knew there had been growing concern since she had barely left her bed for 9 days. She had heard him on the phone talking in muffled tones and later voices down the hall, one sounding like her mother and later still, her girlfriend Nancy. She had only left the bed to go to the bathroom. She refused to turn on the light or look in the mirror.
Claire, her sister, was down the hall, she could hear her straightening and cleaning. Michael had finally gone back to work, thank God. All his concern and gently trying to get her to talk had almost driven her mad. She didn’t want to talk or breathe or feel, ever again. She could here the sweeper running and then it stopped. She heard Claire’s footsteps coming up the hall. They stopped at the door. Then it opened.
“You have to get up. I know, I know it sucks but you cannot stay in that bed forever. Just get up and take a shower.” And she did. She pushed the covers back and not looking walked to the bathroom and shut the door. She did not turn on the light, but simply turned the hot water on and took her clothes off. She stepped into the great billowing plumes of steam and stood there. Finally she washed her hair and her body and then stood there some more. She stood there until the hot water was no longer hot. She got out and wrapped herself in a towel and walked out of the bathroom. Claire had changed the sheets, made the bed, opened the blinds and lit some scented candle.
She looked out the window, grey. All the colors of fall had disappeared into the misery. It had been raining for a week and every single leaf was gone from the trees. A brown muddled mess on the ground everywhere you looked. The trees were bare now, branches black and raised as if in agony towards the low hanging clouds. It was misting now. She stood there for a long time not looking, not seeing, not feeling anything.
She pulled on a pair of black sweatpants and an oversized sweatshirt. She was a little dizzy from the effort. She ran a brush through her hair, put on her socks and shoes and walked down the hall, not looking at the closed door on her right. She walked out the front door and down the block. It was bitter cold and her breath came out in puffs. The mist turned to sleet, and for the first time, in nine days she felt something. The sleet came hard, it felt like it was cutting her skin, and for the first time in nine days she began to cry.
She wept as she walked the mile to the playground and then back again. She had been taking this walk almost everyday from when she had first found out. She was soaked now, her eyes swollen from the weeping her nose and cheeks red from the cold. She walked back into the house. Claire watched her walk down the hall and open the door in the hall. It felt like the sleet had penetrated the skin and had cut her heart. She was bleeding inside she could feel it.
There would be no baby girl, she was gone and now everything, everything looked different.

Sarah's prompt: The Scar

She put her hand to her cheek and ran her fingers along it. Barely perceptible amidst the wrinkles and laugh lines on her cheek, she remembered the day she got the scar. They had been married four months, two weeks and five days. The day had started out badly and had only gotten worse.
His day at work had been filled with tension that had ended with harsh words and the company had let him go. He hadn’t wanted to tell her so he stopped off at a local bar to a have a couple of beers.
He was two hours late when he finally got home and supper was burned. They were fighting even before he was all the way through the front door. He went straight to the fridge and grabbed a beer. It was followed by four more in quick succession. Angry words rose louder and louder through the apartment window. He had said something hateful and she had smarted off to him and he hit her, his wedding ring tearing the soft skin on her cheek.
Immediately he was sober and begging her forgiveness. She just stared at him with a deer in the headlights kind of look and then crying hysterically she ran from him to the bathroom and locked the door. No pleading on his part could induce her to open it and finally he had walked back into the living room. He sat down in front of the television not really watching but not really knowing what else to do. Eventually he heard the bathroom door open and he had called her name softly but she hadn’t responded. He stayed in that chair for two more hours wanting to talk to her, to hold her but he didn’t know what to say or what to do. Eventually he got up and went into the bedroom the lights were off and she appeared to be sleeping. He lay down next to her not touching her, just laying there. Finally he fell asleep.
She could hear his breathing slow and then steadily he began to snore. She waited until she was absolutely certain that he was completely asleep. She sat up and turned on the light.
“What the f…” he started to scream as he sat bolt upright in bed his face burning, the words died on his lips as he saw her sitting there with the knife in her hands, tears streaming down her face. He brought his hand down from his cheek. It was covered in blood. He got up and looked in the mirror. He could see the gash in his cheek. “Licia?”
“You will eventually always fall asleep.” She whispered.
“What?”
“I love you. I want to be with you. I want to share my life with you.” The words came faster now. “But I will not let you hit me. I will not. So I’m telling you, I will stay with you and we can have a wonderful life. But you must remember that if you ever hit me again, ever. That eventually you will have to sleep and I will cut you. I will cut you bad.” She began to sob and he went to her on the bed. It was a long night, he promised he would never hurt her like this again. Eventually they had made love and they had slept and they had lived their life both scars reminding them of what they could lose.
It had not always been easy, she miscarried the first baby. They had money problems off and on. It had not always been hard. They had a family, three girls and a boy. They built a home and a life together.
51 years, they had buried their youngest daughter, drugs and fast cars had killed her. The other children had grown up, married and had families of their own, 8 grandchildren, one great grandchild. They had loved each other and he had kept his promise to never hit her again.
She reached into the casket and wiped away the makeup they had put on him. Before they closed it, before they took him away, she touched his face, she ran her finger along the scar, she caressed his cheek and she said goodbye to the man she loved.

Sarah's prompt: The Bed

Covered in eyelet and trimmed in pink satin, it stands ready in a room with pale pink walls. There is a changing table in the corner and a diaper stacker. The dresser is filled to overflowing with pink gowns and little footie pajamas, all with various baby animals on them. Everyone exclaims over the beautiful little bassinet but in four days more no one will notice it at all because of the little pink occupant that cries like clockwork every three hours.

Covered in large pastel flowers with 23 stuffed animals sitting upon it, 17 of them bears, one in particular has a pink tutu, a star wand with rainbow colored ribbons and pretty wings with sparklies. Every night this is the place to hear fairy tales of some princess or charming little girl, or beautiful lady warrior, or strong lady firefighter.

Covered in a comforter of bright pink and green geometric shapes barely visible under a Biology I book, laptop computer, I pod, cell phone, house phone, three t-shirts, her boyfriend’s letterman jacket, bag of chips half eaten, and three water bottles mostly empty.

Sheets and comforter all part of a $29 bed in a bag. The sheets are scratchy but not noticeable by the young newlyweds who spend an inordinate amount of time playing beneath them, in a tiny room, in a tiny apartment they can barely afford.

Egyptian cotton sheets, satin comforter cover a California king bed that has 12 pillows. Its occupants sleep on opposite sides, barely seeing the other because of the pillows, books, Wall Street Journal and laptop that lies between them.

White cotton, changed and laundered daily, under a flannel blanket that is straightened every time the nurse comes into the almost silent room, the only noise coming from the ventilator and the occasional beeping from the machine where the medicine for the IV hangs.

Sarah's prompt: After midnight

After midnight, when the moon is high, and the air is still, she slips silently from her bedroom. Light as air in her white cotton and lace night gown she runs across the lawn, until she comes to the edge of the lake. In the silence and the stillness she waits patiently, quietly, her breath and the beating of her heart are all that she can here.
She waits, crouching by the edge of the water hidden by the tall marsh grass, fearful that someone might see her, but of course everyone is asleep. She does not doubt that he will come. She waits until finally he appears from the trees at the edge of the arbor. He makes his way towards her. Not wanting to rush too quickly to her side though he longs to be with her but he knows, as she knows, that once he is there and they have done what they have come here to do he must return to the trees, as she must return to the manor.
She shivers not from the cold but in anticipation. Soon, so very soon., then he is there and she is in his arms. He kisses her a single tender, loving kiss and she kisses him back and they hold each other close.
“How much longer?” She asks.
“200 more single moonlit kisses, given after midnight, before the spell can be broken,” He whispers. “200 more.”
“Then 200 more it will be and then we will be together, day and night. I will see you tomorrow my love, after midnight.”
“After midnight my darling.” He holds her close for one more moment and then he returns to the arbor and she to her bedroom.

Sarah's prompt: Why not?

Who would have thought by some mere chance,
Coincidence or circumstance,
Or perhaps by happenstance
That I’d be here with you?

I hadn’t counted on the moon,
Or clouds or stars or sun,
I didn’t know you were the one.
And yet, well, here you are.

With gentle words and tender touch,
I didn’t know you’d love this much,
Or of your special ways and such
That caress my hidden heart.

I could ask so many things like how
And when and where and why,
But I am certain that you’d reply,
Why not?

Sarah's prompt These are the things women know about love.

The first time they met, she was all sweetness and playfulness. Touching him often and encouraging him to touch her. She had made him laugh and at one point it became apparent to him that she was wooing him. It wasn't long before he knew that she was the one that he wanted to be with.
When he first brought her to his apartment however, she was aloof and nervous. She went from the chair to the couch and back again. She looked out the window and although he tried to engage her in conversation she feigned disinterest and suddenly became quite absorbed in a magazine lying on the coffee table. After he had given her some space she seemed to come around a bit but she was careful how she sat, careful how she moved, a bit finicky with her food. After dinner she had gone down the hall presumedly to the rest room but when she hadn't reappeared, after 15 minutes, he went to investigate and found her asleep on his bed. He lay down on the otherside and just watched her and occasionally he would touch her ever so lightly. eventually he fell asleep as well. He awoke several hours later and found she had moved over, and was now sleeping against him with her head on his chest. He smiled as he listened to her breathe and then he fell back to sleep.
It took a little while to overcome the awkwardness of first being together but with gentleness and patience on his part she began to open up to him. She began to make herself more comfortable in his space. She had her favorite place to sit. She loved the chair near thw window where the afternoon sun shone through the leaves. He often found her in the kitchen busying herself with this or that. She began to smile more, she became more affectionate, touching him more, on the couch she would lie against him. Soon enough their shared living arrangements became quite homey and happy.
For the life of him however, he couldn’t understand her moods. Even after they had been living together for several weeks, he never knew how she would be when he came home. For no apparent reason she would scold him when he came in. Some days she barely spoke to him when he got home and then suddenly for no apparent reason she was fine. Other days she was so playful he couldn’t do anything but focus on her. One evening she made herself so comfortable laying with him on the recliner that he called the guys to say he would be missing their Thursday night basketball game.
She knew then that he was in love with her. After that she owned the place. She was the queen in her castle and as he stroked her she would purr softly absolutely content knowing that she was his one true love.

Running Away From Home

The prompt was "My younger self fled not toward but from... (it's a quote from one of Marge Piercy's poems)."


I can’t do this anymore,
I’m headed to the world beyond this door!
To something much grander
To something more fun.
I’m going to find my place in the sun!
I’m not holding back,
Not hedging my bets,
I’m going out to get all I can get!
I’m certain of one thing
I’m not certain at all.
But trying and failing
Beats not trying out all!
So here I come wide open spaces.
Look for me in glamorous places.
Taking life by the horns,
Living life to the full,
Daring to be what I dreamed I could be,
Until time catches up with me.
When I’m older and wiser
I’ll have smiles to hide.
Of times that I tried,
When I probably shouldn’t have,
Gone down more dangerous paths.
Then I would have.
Times that I skipped responsibilities,
To live wishes and dreams and possibilities.

I saw her dancing

She runs in circles and twirls and dances, faster and faster until she falls on the lawn giggling and laughing. All the fairies and pixies clap and cheer loudly as the darkness is pushed back.
Dressed in a blue princess dress, edged in silver and covered with iridescence that flashes and sparkles with every twirl catching the sunlight, She is the bravest and most beautiful of the fairy princesses. The little princess gets up and dances again in celebration of her victory. Her joy bubbling up and out as she sings and laughs. Then running back and forth between the trees, she invites the puppies to join her. They chase her back and forth and round and around until they are as dizzy as she and as she lays on the grass they tumble on top of her licking her face while she squeals with delight.
The butterflies join in. Soon the birds of the field and the squirrels and chipmunks are a part of the party. There is lots of chattering and hurrahing. The west wind blows softly and the flowers dance in celebration
The two women on the porch smile indulgently as they look out in the yard. Of course being mere mortal, they can only see a little girl wearing a Cinderella dress over her camouflage shirt, embroidered jeans and Dora tennis shoes. They neither hear nor see the pixies and the fairies. They cannot see the dancing flowers or understand that all the creatures are a part of this gathering. They did not understand that danger was near.
“I thought we were supposed to have thunderstorms this afternoon.”
“The weatherman must have been wrong.”
Its sad that they could not see or understand, but I was looking through the upstairs window and I saw her dancing.

Its What I Do In The Middle of the Night

With the nightlight guiding me I sneak across my bedroom to the hall. I run on tiptoe down the hall to the stairs and carefully make my way downstairs. I take extra care not to step on the third step down nor on the one just before the last as they will creak and moan.
I sneak through the living room and into the kitchen where I open the refrigerator door. I take an apple for myself. I dash across the kitchen and take out two slices of bread. Unlatching the kitchen door, I make my way across the porch by moonlight, being careful not to trip on Daddy’s boots. I jump down three steps and across the yard, out the back gate and on to the dock.
I sit with my feet dangling above the water. I set my apple down and tear the bread into little tiny pieces and cast them on the water. Then I pick up my apple and begin to eat it by the light of the moon and the stars. I watch as the fish nibble on the bread making ripples that grow larger and larger reflecting sparkles of starlight and moonlight everywhere.
I wonder if somewhere high above me the ripples can be seen by the stars and the moon. As the night breeze tousles my hair, I lie back on the dock staring up at the night sky and finish my apple. I toss the core into the lake; make my way back up the dock and through the gate. I run across the yard and up the porch. Locking the door behind me, I make my way back across the living room and up the stairs, down the hall and into my bed to dream of water and stars and moonlight.

They have no words for such things - jan 7

Once when no one was looking a butterfly peeked through the window. She saw rows of beautifully bound books. She saw the yellow chenille throw at the end of the couch. She saw the roses in the cut glass vase on the dining room table.
She flew off to tell her friends but she had no words to describe what she had seen. Outside of my little flat there are flowers and trees, birds and bugs but how can you describe a yellow chenille throw to a mockingbird? What does a squirrel know of a cut glass vase?
She thought and she thought and then decided to use the words she knew. She shared with the chipmunk about the rainbows that ran along the walls in variations of all different colors in all different directions. She told the rabbit about a bed of starlight inside a darkened place. She flew to the edge of the pond and told the swan about the roses growing in an ice stalk that shimmered and sparkled in the sunlight.
The following afternoon the butterfly came back and peeked through the window to see what she could see. The next day she used the words she knew to describe what she had seen. This went on for almost a week. There was great excitement throughout the garden as the animals heard of the of rainbows, starlight, shimmering ice stalks and so many other things.
Today the little butterfly came but she went away sad. Outside in the garden there are many beautiful things. But today when no one was looking and the little butterfly peeked through the window she saw love reflected in your eyes, she heard the sighs after we kissed, and the gentleness of our embrace. Butterflies can’t share the secrets of love.