Colours awash on the water
ducks dip and feed
clouds reflect in the deep
“Finding a sanctuary, a place apart from time,
is not different from finding a faith.”
~ Pico Iyer, Falling off the Map: Some Lonely Places in the World
Writing daily about my journeys through books, movies and plays along with poetry, story, or an occasional wander into ideas, opinions or rants.
Colours awash on the water
ducks dip and feed
clouds reflect in the deep
“Finding a sanctuary, a place apart from time,
is not different from finding a faith.”
~ Pico Iyer, Falling off the Map: Some Lonely Places in the World
crying into the wind
prairie gulls spin and soar
in skies clear or cloudy
honking their calls to gather,
Canada geese chevron
like arrows through the skies
gulls and geese alike
gather in flocks setting
autumn flight plans.
“I have wings on the back of my shoulders, and I’m ready to fly”
~ Pamela L. Laskin, Ronit & Jamil
when the sun sets,
the leaves fall,
all that remains are
clouds and lace
“Only the clouds can tell where hidden sun-rays dwell.”
~ Munia Khan, Fireclay
Review, Revision, Edit and Update
This episode, Dez's Story, was an enjoyable read this morning. After the many months of this saga Situationally Theirs, hearing from one character at a time develops another layer to the story. It is recommended by writing scholars, that when writing a book, pieces such as these weekly character episodes, should be done. They may not be included in the final draft, but for the author, and the reader, it does provide deeper character development.
No revisions were required for this mornings review of Dez's Story (Chapter Two, Episode Two).
Dez's Story
Dez swallowed the last bite of mashed potatoes. A second helping, she had made a ‘gravy volcano’ and had carefully deconstructed it. “It’s a childhood thing……..” She grinned. “Time to get serious though. Thanks, Cook and thank you Digby.”
Dez pushed her chair back and stood up. “I’m feeling a bit nervous, so if no one minds I’ll stand. I didn’t make any notes and I’m not sure what you want me to say, so I’ll just begin.” Standing behind her chair, nervously gripping it she started talking. “When I woke up the morning of my failed ‘bank job’ I had no idea what would follow. My sister and I hadn’t seen or heard from each other for over ten years.” Looking over at her sister, she smiled. “I’ll back up a bit. I really didn’t know much about the pandemic except that stores were closing. I knew it had something to do with that. Later in the day, when I was flat on my back on the bank floor being sprayed with Lysol and chained to a desk, my mind raced back to Em when we played silly kid games, games that were fun. This wasn’t fun and it wasn’t a game. I was scared. Someone once said ‘never let’em see you sweat' and I've agreed with that so the two security guards didn’t see that I was embarrassed and absolutely terrified.” Dez hung her head just for a second, took a deep breath and continued. “The second thing that frightened me, was later that same night in police holding, when the police asked who my next of kin was. About to say ‘no one’, I stopped. That same terrified feeling was there again and I whispered ‘I have a sister’.” Her mouth dry, Dez took a sip of water. “He asked where she was. I had to say I didn’t know, forgetting that her name and number were on my cell phone. Feeling so alone in that holding cell behind bars, I thought I would have no place to go.” The room had gone silent, no one had seen Miss Dez like this before. “I just needed someone tell me what to do. Long story short. The police officer found Emelina’s phone number on my cell phone, buried in with all my other contacts, conveniently forgotten. There were only two choices for me - three really - the police would send me to a motel up island; with my estranged sister; or on the street until I could get in my apartment. I let the police officer make the call because I was still hanging on to being mad at Em for something: I was just being stubborn.” Dez walked to her sister and put her hand on her shoulder. Emelina covered Dez's hand with her own.“If you hadn’t come to my rescue that night, I don’t know where I’d be today.” Looking at her new found friends she said softly “Certainly not here with all of you who have become like family to me. I guess that’s all I have Digby. …..I just want all of you to stay well and happy. I’m just glad to be part of this family and this little community. Digby, you’re better stop me now before I keep babbling any more than I already am. “ Dez grabbed a tissue and dabbed at her eyes. “If at anytime you need anything call me. Do you have my phone number?….No?..some of you do. Digby, do you have………”
“Already done, Miss Dez. Here’s your copy. Everyone has your phone number and you have ours.” Digby turned to Cook. “Is that pie ready, Elizabeth? I think we’ve been serious enough for tonight.”
And with that, the meeting was adjourned.
“Owning our story and loving ourselves through
that process is the bravest thing that we will ever do.”
~ Brené Brown
Golden, fresh and brilliant
early fall afternoon shade
cheerful as sunshine
gracious as swaths of daffodils
skipping down springtime hillsides.
“Notice that autumn is more the season of the soul than of nature.”
~ Friedrich Nietzsche
From the Sept 30, 2015 entry in my personal journal -
“ …………. an old piece of wood tapering to one end with a bulbous shape at the top. Anyone not familiar with this item would wonder at it’s use……..I carried this dry old wooden pestle with me like I carry my childhood memories………As children we were to crush ice cubes for dad’s summer ice tea.”
I don’t need the more ‘modern’ pestle for crushing ice, but I do need apple sauce………
“Make your work to be in keeping with your purpose.”
~ Leonardo da Vinci
out my living room window
from island west to prairie broad, a change in scenery arises
from squirrels and deer
to rabbits and geese
urbanized wildlife pokes and
nibbles at grass and shrubs
only scampering away when
threatened by my tap on the window
“Yet wild things have a far more rational fear of us than is ours of them……”
~ Angela Carter, the Bloody Chamber and Other Stories