Amanda and Her Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

I am hoping to write "12 Short Stories in 12 Months" this year.  I have done the "12 Poems in 12 Months" challenge for several years, but fiction-writing comes hard to me, and I've been reluctant to try this challenge. I wrote this month's story in one sitting today - on deadline day! The prompt was "The Question" with a word count of 1200 words exactly.  

Amanda and Her Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

“Could this day get any worse?!” I shouted in frustration.

Standing beside my canted Nissan parked on the shoulder of the country road a hundred miles from home, I watched the clouds gather and darken. I looked into the truck again and saw that Eli was beginning to stir in his carseat and realized that it was past his nursing time. My three-month-old would be wailing for food soon. I prayed that he’d sleep a little longer so I’d have time to see if I remembered my dad’s lesson on changing a flat tire.

I had managed to find and extract the spare when I heard an approaching car and realized it was slowing.

Salvation? Or greater crisis?

The young man emerged from his car and called out, “Can I help you, Miss?”

As he approached my pickup truck, I quickly abandoned the tire and moved to stand beside the door closest to my son’s carseat.

The man was average in almost every way. He was, however, wearing a tie and sport coat, and my first instinct was that salvation had arrived. This man appeared to be the very epitome of a knight in shining armor – sent to rescue me.

Nevertheless, I cautiously and dismissively replied, “I think I can manage. Thank you for stopping, but I will be fine.” I had watched too many true-crime documentaries to allow myself to trust this stranger, no matter how respectable he appeared. I held my breath, willing him to walk back to his car and leave.

I had been absorbed in evaluating the situation and hadn’t heard my son’s beginning cries until the man said, “Oh, you have a baby with you!  You have enough to deal with here. Why don’t I just change the tire while you take care of the child?”

As Eli’s wails gathered strength, the accumulated stress of the day overwhelmed me. What if this man intended harm? How would I protect myself and my child? But it would be dark soon, and there was no family or friend within 100 miles that I could call to come help me. Soon I’d be in an even more precarious situation because of the DARK factor.  

Impulsively, and spurred by the frantic wails now coming from inside the truck, I decided I had to take the chance.

Seeing my inner struggle, the stranger said, “Look, I know what you’re thinking, and I understand. I promise you I only want to help you. My name is Jeremy Cagle. I live just down the road a couple of miles that way. I was just on my way to a town-hall meeting in Coverdale. I’m a district representative.”

Tentatively I replied, “Thank you, Mr. Cagle…”

“Jeremy, please.”

“Okay, Jeremy. I’m Amanda, and I would appreciate the help.”

Careful not to turn my back completely to him, I opened the door and took my son out of his carseat to comfort him, and Jeremy bent to his task.

Eli began rooting into my chest, wanting to be fed. There was no way I could nurse my son while this stranger and I were alone in the gathering darkness, but Eli’s cries were becoming louder and more demanding.

I walked down the side of the road, passing Jeremy and the rear of the truck and bouncing Eli gently to placate him, then I turned to see Jeremy’s back as he knelt to put the spare on my truck. With the stranger’s back to me, I breathed deeply to calm myself and cautiously adjusted my clothing and the concealing blanket so that Eli could nurse.

“How’s it going?” I called as the baby greedily latched on and began to nurse.

“Should be finished in 5.” Jeremy replied.

“I hope you’re not ruining your clothes,” I continued, to fill the silence.

In the momentary calm, I began to mentally process the events of the last 24 hours.

In the early-morning quiet, I had held Eli and re-read the email from my husband, deployed for the last two months in Afghanistan. The letter was determinedly cheerful and upbeat, but I sensed the tension and loneliness behind Brian’s written words. Miliary regulations kept him from being able to relay any factual information as to exactly where he was and what his activities involved, but it had become clear to me that he was involved in actual combat and that he desperately wanted to be home with his family.

Since I was still on maternity leave, I had impulsively decided that Eli and I needed family around us for awhile, so I had called Mom and Dad and made plans for an impromptu road trip.

It is not easy to do laundry and pack for a trip with a hungry baby for company, so it was after noon by the time I had finished making the necessary phone calls and other preparations, loaded the car, and got myself and my baby started on our journey. We still should have been able to arrive at Mom and Dad’s house before dark, but the universe seemed to have conspired against that goal.

Usually a placid and easily-entertained baby, Eli had been fussy in the truck – not wanting to sleep, wanting to be held. I sang. I talked. Finally, I had stopped and had taken him out of the seat and cuddled a little, hoping that a break would help him feel secure and lull him to sleep. Just as we approached Madison, the only part of our trip that involved urban interstate highways, he, thankfully, began to doze. Traffic congestion worsened with the never-ending road construction that typifies the little city of Madison. No matter what I did, I couldn’t pick the lane that was moving, so we crept slowly along the interstate highway towards the last stretch of country road we would travel.

As Eli slept, I thought about what lay ahead when we arrived at my parents’ house. Eli would be rested and ready to play; I would be tired and still have a lot of work to do before I could rest. Just anticipating the arrival, unpacking, and setting up for home away from home with a baby had me tense, apprehensive, and exhausted. And then the truck began that ker-thunk, ker-thunk battle cry of the flat tire, and this final stress of the day had begun.

Now, standing beside the road in the gathering twilight, re-adjusting my clothing after Eli’s meal and watching a stranger changing my tire, I steeled myself for whatever was next. Would Jeremy get in his car and leave? Or did I have more crisis ahead? I braced myself as I watched the young man throw the flat tire into the back of the truck and brush his hands together.

“Well, Amanda, remember these little “donut” tires are just temporary. You need to drive slowly and get a real tire back on as soon as you can. You have a safe trip now.” He smiled and began moving toward his car.

I cuddled my sleeping baby closer to my chest and stepped toward Jeremy. “I can’t possibly tell you how much I appreciate this, Jeremy.”

“Glad to help! Be careful now!” Jeremy waited beside his car while I buckled Eli into his seat and got into the driver’s seat of my pickup truck.

My heart was light as I drove my happy baby the remaining two hours to security.  

Little Pieces

The last assignment for the Keep Writing Challenge is to write a 180-word story using the prompt "glue."

Little Pieces

“How are you?” mumbles the tight-lipped clerk as I unload groceries onto the conveyor belt.

“Fine.” I recite my line and follow it with the obligatory, “And you?”

Later, loading my groceries into the backseat of my pickup truck I imagine how differently that encounter could have gone.

“Oh, thank you for asking, Ms Grocery-store-checkout-lady.  I noticed how rudely that last customer treated you, and I am sorry for that. I hope you can forget it and enjoy the rest of your day. And, since you asked, I’m not feeling very well. The arthritis in my left hand has made it almost useless this week. My Mother’s dementia has made a dramatic turn for the worse, too, and I am afraid I shouldn’t have left her alone to shop for groceries. My daughter’s family is really struggling to pay bills since the pandemic ended their second income...”

I start the truck and pull carefully out into traffic. Life breaks us all into little pieces. We pile the pieces up and exist until we are able to glue them back together and live.

The Shutdown Sultan

The penultimate Keep Writing Challenge assignment is to write a 300-word story using the prompt "hex."

The Shutdown Sultan

The Shutdown Sultan surveys the landscape of Mindy’s mind. He has feasted and controlled here. For thirteen weeks he has reigned here. The once-lush valley surely lies spent and exhausted in the wake of the Sultan’s invasion. Surely the spark of creativity he forced from her is extinguished!

The Sultan’s eye lingers on the myriad colorful canvases littering the atelier of Mindy’s home. Landscapes, seascapes, field flowers (relics of the remembered Outside) dominate the room. Giant roses, tulips, lilies-of-the-valley, and poppies grow in abundance. Flowers of indeterminate origin, many cultivated only in Mindy’s mind, threaten to burst the walls. Colorful splotches and splatters mar the floor; half-finished and hideous abstracts dare the timid to enter. 

He sighs. A small doubt has pushed into his consciousness. Has the isolation borne fruit? Has the enforced creativity devastated as he intended, or has its hex turned on him?

Turning his back on the offending atelier, the Shutdown Sultan strides into the study. Surely here he will find affirmation of damage from Mindy’s hex-induced creativity. His attention centers on Mindy’s laptop, and hope reignites in his heart. The device languishes beside the reading chair, exhausted but maintaining a tight hold on the 70 little stories that bear witness to Mindy’s dogged adherence to the Keep Writing Challenge.

The Sultan scrolls through the vagaries of Mindy’s mind as shown in her fiction. She has visited far-off lands, enjoyed the company of family and imaginary creatures, found adventure, made friends, honed skills. She has lived in her words, her scenes, her stories. Mindy’s creativity has taken the Sultan’s restrictions and pushed her to write, compelled her to paint, forced her to pound the ivories.

My fortress was so strong!  He thinks. How can it be that a simple creature like Creativity subverted the power of the Shutdown Sultan?!

Kids, Komputers, and Kolleagues

The Keep Writing Challenge for today is to write a 150-word story using the prompt "plunge."

Kids, Komputers, and Kolleagues

It had seemed so easy last month when I’d agreed to this! Now I was standing in front of my son’s first grade class and found myself unaccountably nervous.

This is crazy. I am a successful computer analyst. The state police trust me with their computer systems. I know this stuff backward and forward. These kids are 6 years old, for cryin’ out loud!

I had worked to simplify terminology to make my job understandable to children, so, smiling at the teacher, sitting all ears in the back of the room, I plunged in.

“I work at the police station, but I am not a police officer. My colleagues and I…..”

I continued, telling the children about how we study people’s computers to help the police punish the “bad guys.”

“Anybody have a question?” the teacher asked.

I quickly conceded abject failure when I heard the one question proffered, “What is a colleague?”

The Masters

The Keep Writing Challenge for today is to write a 250-word story using the prompt "tripod."

The Masters

Frances and Tom held hands and prepared to see the results. They had been disappointed so often! Could their marriage survive another?

Tom put out a restraining hand, “Honey, remember, if it’s not positive, we can always try again. And I will always love you whether or not we have a baby.” They prepared themselves for the possibility of another disappointment.

They looked at the stick – and then at each other - in disbelief. “It’s positive!”

Frances threw her arms around her husband.

The pregnancy was a dream, even through the long quarantine, and Tom treated Frances like a queen. Soon it was only three weeks until their Thanksgiving baby would be here.

The Covid-19 virus had caused the postponement of Augusta’s famous Masters Golf Tournament, usually held in April. Their hometown’s big event had been rescheduled for early November.

Tom left home early on the morning of November 9, a full three weeks before the baby was due, to watch the scheduled practice rounds with his friend, Gary. Suddenly Tom’s cellphone rang and lit up.

“Fran’s mother?!  What could she want?” Tom exclaimed.

“Tom! Frances is in labor!  Meet us at Augusta Hospital. I hate for you to miss the Masters, but you’ll just have to ask Gary to video it for you. Hurry!”

Frances was resting between contractions when the door opened. “Oh Tom! Thank God, you made it!” she cried.

Fran was flummoxed to see Gary entering the labor room carrying Tom's video camera and tripod!

A Gift for My Mother

The Keep Writing Challenge for today is to write a 90-word story using the prompt "listen."

A Gift for My Mother

I concentrate on holding eye contact as my Mother talks. I’ve heard this family story – in these very same words – at least twice today – hundreds of times in total.

“Do you remember that?” she asks, expectantly.

I will myself to feel her enthusiasm. “Oh yes, he was such a prankster!”

I squeeze out a chuckle, light my face, and follow my script, “And, what was it Grace said then?”

Fire ignites in eyes often dull with diminished interest in life. There are so few gifts I can still give my aging mother.

I listen.

Steadfast Love

The Keep Writing Challenge for today is to write a 150-word (exactly) story using the prompt "font."

Baptismal Font at Cathedral Magdeburg, Germany 

Steadfast Love 

As their son’s wedding rehearsal ended and the wedding party filed out, Allison and Jim remained at the altar. Their eyes met. “Remember? Right here – seems like only yesterday!”

Allison stands at the baptismal font holding her baby son, Christopher.  Jim, standing tall beside her, rests one hand lightly on his wife’s waist while the other reaches around to tenderly cradle their son’s head.  Jim and Allison, forming a circle of arms around their child, present him to God and their faith community.

Christopher wears a tiny white cap that his father wore 30 years ago at his own baptism and a long white baptismal gown trimmed with lace from his grandmother’s wedding dress. He sleeps unaware that, for one breathless moment, the world has stopped to honor and offer thanks for his life. He sleeps as his community solemnly vows to surround his family with steadfast love.

Steadfast love.

The Decoy

The Keep Writing Challenge for the day is to write a 70-word story using the prompt "palm."

The Decoy

Wylena focused on the deputy detailing her part in the strategy. She rubbed her palms against her thighs. The walls inched closer, and the air supply in the room dwindled. She dug her fingertips into her palms and thought of Casey.

Fear would not stop her from doing her part to save her sister. Time to “put up or shut up.”

Legs trembling, Wylena stood.

Deep inhale. “Okay, let’s do it!”

Life Goes On

The Keep Writing Challenge for today is to write a 100-word story using the prompt "huff." 

Inspiration: “Nothing is so painful to the human mind as a great and sudden change.” – Mary Shelley, Frankenstein

Life Goes On

“Are you serious, Mac?!” Fran huffs, gaping at her husband.  “You quit your job?!”

Only a half-hour before, Fran, the first home from work, lay semi-dozing on the couch, contentedly musing Mac will be home soon…dinner’s in the slowcooker…good jobs…happy marriage…soon a house and kids… life is good…

Now a towering blackness obscures Fran’s tranquil daydream. The frightening storm intensifies; deafening cracks of panic rock her hopes; sizzling bolts of fear streak the dark sky of her vision, and a driving rain pelts her dreams, rolls down her face, and soaks her strength.

She breathes. 

She extends her hand.

He takes it.

“What now?” they ask in unison.

Lessons in the Park

The Keep Writing Challenge assignment for today is to write a 250-word (exactly) story using the prompt "following."

Lessons in the Park

The man leaned against a tree only twenty feet away from Claire, giving her a full view of his face. His tawny hair gleamed in the sunlight filtering through the pines. Even from this distance, Claire could see the intense expression on his ruggedly-handsome face.

“He was here last week – and before that,” Maria nodded in the direction of Clair’s gaze. “He was watching you.” 

The man was attractive in an earthy way that appealed to Claire, and she oddly felt little unease at the thought that he might be following her.

As the friends worked on Maria’s English, Claire ‘s attention drifted occasionally to the stranger, who had used a few peanuts to entice a squirrel , and was now feeding it from his hand. He looked up, as if aware of Claire’s scrutiny, and tossed her a smile before pushing off the tree and sauntering to the banks of the nearby pond. He pulled out a bag of bread and crouched down to feed the loudly-squawking ducks then threw his head back and laughed as they swarmed him for the food.

“Nice man, I think,” Maria said. “Animals like him. And he likes YOU.” She waggled her eyebrows. “That boyfriend of yours could use some competition. He takes you for granted.”

As Claire dressed for her date that night, she thought of Maria’s comments about the attractive stranger. She pictured him, his head thrown back in laughter, and wondered if he really was attracted to her.

She smiled. Maria was right. Fletcher needs some competition!

Tribute to a Graduate

The Keep Writing Challenge for today is to write a 300-word (exactly) story based on the prompt "excellence."

Tribute to a Graduate

My baby girl stood before me in a flowing blue graduation robe and mortarboard, bopping gently to make the tassel swing.

“What?  Why are you staring at me like that? Are you disappointed that I didn’t quality to wear a high honors sash?”

“Oh, Baby, absolutely not! There is no way I could be prouder, and you look amazing!”  I stood there trying to capture words to explain where my mind had flown, and my daughter rushed back into the kitchen to model for her Dad.

Unsettled by the aborted conversation, knowing I’d let a golden opportunity escape, I sat at my computer and began to tell my daughter what was in my mind when she thought she saw disappointment on my face.

My darling Arden,

You asked why I had no words for you as you modeled your graduation robe? This. A slide show of your life (past, present, and future) was playing in my head. My mother always said that you never lose all the ages you have been, and I was assembling all of YOU into one cohesive image.

You are a baby - bubbly, responsive, eager to learn and master new skills.

You are a toddler - inquisitive, usually successful on first tries but willing to learn from failures and try again.

You are a child - unbroken when faced with setbacks, knowing her own intelligence and importance while acknowledging the strengths of others as well.

You are a teen who knows who she is and what she believes in, who utilizes her strengths, who dares to dream.

You are a young woman blazing trails and setting examples, responsible, in charge of her own life and future.

I saw, standing before me today, a young woman of elegance and excellence, ready to take on the world.

The Power of Love

The Keep Writing Challenge for today is to write a 150-word (exactly) story using the prompt "tick."

The Power of Love

I recline in the comfy treatment chair and watch the solution drip into the tubes and begin its journey into my veins. This is my last infusion in a long course of treatment for recurring cancer. Remembering the shock of the unexpected diagnosis and dire prognosis that had rocked my world five years ago and the stress of the myriad doctors’ visits since, I relax into this familiar routine.

My mother, wandering now in aging dementia, is unaware and needy – and loving.

My husband loves and needs his partner.

My children love and need their counselor.

My grandchildren, almost grown, still love and need their second line of defense.

I am loved.

I am needed.

Drip. Drip.

Drip is what my ears hear, but my mind hears Tick. Tock.

Tick. Tock. 

I don’t count the seconds of borrowed time that are dripping steadily into my life’s blood.

The Partnership

The Keep Writing Challenge assignment for today is to write a 250-word (exactly) story using the prompt "running."

The Partnership

Al flashed a quick smile. She’d caught him staring just a little too long.

With her sun-bronzed, lightly freckled complexion and her brown pageboy haircut, his new tennis partner possessed, if not movie actress glamour, certainly the good looks of a girl-next-door prom queen. Nice to look at, sure; but would this girl be tough enough to compete in their league? Could this partnership work?

“Okay, then, let’s give this a shot. We’ve got two weeks to get used to each other before the tournament. Let’s go,” he suggested smoothly.

“Thanks for being willing to take on the newbie as your doubles partner,” Megan replied. “Coach said he thought you’d be able to adapt to the change better than anybody else on the boys team. I’ve played since I was a kid and played singles at my old school, but I’ve never played mixed doubles; I hope I won’t hold you back.”  

Al and Megan took the court to warm up opposite Janet and Jason, who’d played together since 9^th grade.

Soon Coach called out, “Okay, let’s pick up the pace and see what you got!” and the foursome squared up.

Al began to relax as Megan delivered strong serves and made solid returns. He could see it now. She was supple and muscular without appearing masculine, always alert and running hard to be in position to make powerful returns. She met his eyes in affirmation when he made a good shot.

Oh yes! Coach was right. Good partnership!

On the Hardware Aisle

The Creative Writing Challenge for today is to write a 100-word (exactly) story using the prompt "screwdriver."

On the Hardware Aisle

My life begins!  I’ve never belonged before. I’ve always been different. But…

Finally! An end to long days of tedium observing life and watching friends find their niche, leaving me to wonder if I ever would. Gone are the brief moments of wild exhilaration and hope (“Will this one choose me? He’s smiling and studying me from all angles. Will I finally be taken home?”) and the sudden drop to despair (“Oh, his gaze is wandering!  He’s picking another!”)

But this one picked me!  He wanted a Phillips! A toolbox of my own! My very own carpenter!

Kindergarten Couple

The Keep Writing Challenge for today was to write a 200-word (exactly) story using the prompt "prompted." I adapted a true story that came from a conversation between my daughter and her son.

Kindergarten Couple

"How was your day?" I asked my 5-year-old son on the way home from school.

He sounded exasperated, "It was OK, but Maddie and I had to have a SERIOUS talk."

All year Maddie and Eli have been “boyfriend/girlfriend” – a relationship Maddie takes very seriously. My classroom is just down the hall from their kindergarten, and each time I see Maddie in the hallway, she yells, "Hey, Eli's mom! I'm Eli's girlfriend!"

Questions filled my mind now as I waited in the quiet car for Eli to continue. Had his teacher made them sit and talk because they'd interrupted class?  What had happened to warrant a SERIOUS talk?  What IS a serious talk to two 5-year-olds?!

I asked, "Who said you had to have a serious talk."

"Maddie," he replied.

"Really! Why?" I prompted.

"Well, I played with Ryder (a MALE friend of his) on the playground at recess, and she said I have to play with HER the most because she’s my girlfriend. I told her that I still have other friends and I AM going to go play with the boys sometimes!"

“Was that okay with Maddie?”

“She said she’ll still be my girlfriend.”

The training starts early!

Poetry in My Heart

The Keep Writing Challenge of the day is to write a 150-word (exactly) story using prompt "the lawn."

Poetry in My Heart 

I sat at the front window with my laptop, clarifying my thoughts by writing them. Glancing outside, I saw a pickup truck, pulling a trailer full of lawn-care equipment, park at the curb. Brian and his helper quickly unloaded and began their noisy work.

“Ugh! So much for concentration,” I thought! “Who can think while lawnmowers, weed whackers, shrub trimmers, and driveway edgers violate the tranquility of a perfect Spring day?”

As my eyes went back to the screen, though, I found myself returning to my inner self. The thoughts chasing each other around inside my head and running out my fingers onto the keyboard also chased away the world outside.

I listened, instead, to the beauty of a pink morning sky peeking through tall pine trees and heard the babbling music of a brook winding its long, slow, rocky journey to the ocean.

I wrote the poem in my heart.  

Baseball Is Life

The Keep Writing Challenge for 05-15-2020 is to write a 150-word (exactly) story using the prompt "contrary." 

Baseball Is Life

I usually “go along to get along.” Nevertheless, here I was - the lone contrary voice in the baseball parents’ meeting.

“I get that, Harry,” I said. “The team needs some wins. They’re discouraged; they’re walking off the field with heads hanging. We all feel for them and want to make it better for our sons, but I wonder… Is moving them down to a lower level really a good idea?”

“Shouldn’t we teach our children to succeed by setting goals and working toward them – dreaming, focusing, persevering, working? None of us wants them to think it’s okay to abandon goals when the going gets hard.”

Marty nodded. “Yeah, I want my boy to know he can improve and succeed by working harder, that failure is not final. It’s a hard call, but nobody ever said that being a dad is easy, right? We gotta help these boys grow up.”

Another Throwaway Evening

The assignment in the Keep Writing Challenge is to write a 250-word (exactly) story using the prompt "jack." 

Another Throwaway Evening

Typical, Melvin thought. Another throwaway evening. Nothing to do; nowhere to go. He grew sleepy as he half-listened to the game show on TV and scrolled through Facebook. Finding nothing of interest on either device, he closed his laptop and stretched out on the couch.

Melvin caught a word here and there from the TV and realized that the game show had given way to a newscast while he’d dozed.

“Breaking News…. under the bridge…Cobb County … Roger Edwards.”

Melvin’s eyes popped open at the name of his former boss. He sat up abruptly. It had been almost 20 years. Had they found the body? Fully awake now, he listened closely.

“Edwards, owner and CEO of Astrid Industries, disappeared in 1999, during a Federal investigation of his company. Tune in at 10 for our interview with his wife and business partner, Colleen Edwards.”

Melvin pulled himself together. The cops had questioned him back then, but they’d seemed satisfied with his answers. They’d had plenty of better suspects to look at -- a jack like Roger collected enemies like magnets collect pins. And Colleen – plenty of motive there. And any of her lovers….Still…

Resolutely, Melvin began preparing. Regretfully, he shaved the dark wavy hair that attracted the ladies and his much-loved soul patch. The ten grand he’d stashed in a sugar canister years ago was now stuffed into his go-bag and waited by the door.

Melvin glanced back once and then closed the door. He’d have no more “throwaway evenings” anytime soon!

One Marble

The Keep Writing Challenge prompt for today, May 13, 2020, is "marble." The assignment is to write a story using 100 (exactly) words. 

One Marble

The stunning young woman descending the stairs took my breath away. Glancing at the young man beside me I knew, by his shining eyes and sudden breath intake, that he, too, was transfixed. My daughter was off to her Senior Prom.

As the door closed behind them, a cocktail of emotions compelled me to the sideboard where a large apothecary jar sat. In it was one lonely marble.

One marble. Only one. 

Eighteen years ago it held 936 – one for each week we would have to raise our baby – our baby who will celebrate her 18^th birthday next week. 936 weeks! Now only one.

At Day's End

The Keep Writing Challenge for 05-12-2020 is the write a 150-word (exactly) story using the prompt "clock."

At Day's End

The sun hovers near the horizon, and twilight descends. End-of-day approaches.

Throughout the morning I strove – meeting challenges, reaching for concrete goals, testing, expanding then shrinking back, rethinking, adjusting, serving, achieving.

Well into the afternoon I toiled. “You can do it! Make it happen! Do your part! Look to the future!”

Now, as the clock slowly ticks toward the dark, my time for striving and serving is done. I evaluate, affirm choices, and find satisfaction in past achievements. I cherish the interactions of morning and relationships of afternoon, and I breathe a grateful prayer, rejoicing in the future and adventures of my precious ones.

Even as my energy wanes, I paint in sunshine, travel the world in the words of a novel, and watch the sun’s face darken as a breeze cools my skin.  My bed of rest awaits, and, until day’s end, I will fill each moment with love.