It’s easy to write in the hard times. Things just flow. Words scream out from broken hearts and onto the page. The good times though, those times it can be more difficult to form the passionate words so easily found… Read More ›
Shaking hands reached to light a cigarette. I looked down only to realize they were my own. The clock angrily blinked it’s bright numbers at me. Almost time to go it mocked. I felt my stomach rumble. Begging for nourishment…. Read More ›
I enjoy reading posts from older woman who pour out the skeletons of their emotions. The ones that rip right to the truth. The feelings of no longer mattering to a society blinded by technology. No longer getting paid any attention in the grocery store, or gas station, or any other place that for so long in our lives men rushed to open the doors for us. A valid excuse to check out our asses. No longer having the luxury of being so damn naive.
The downfall of this occurrence is that the five minute snooze gives me exactly enough time to have this heavy coffee pot up in the air as it smoothly fills the anticipating coffee mug that sits on the counter below it, and the alarm clock begins…
I empathize with you. More than once I have been trapped behind a group of chatty shoppers blocking the aisle to the item I need. More often than not, at Wal-Mart….
I awoke in agony from the nagging pain. I felt like I had taken on the Hulk in a ten round boxing match….
A firework will never be a sunrise, nor will a crashing wave ever find itself to be a calm pond. No matter how hard it tries….
They watched us drowning and couldn’t find it in their hearts to throw even the smallest of life preservers our way. People I know. People I loved and respected. Good, loving, Christian people. People who said they’d be there for me always. But no one was there, and my heart hardened a little bit more.
Out of my dining room window sits ‘our field’. We call it our field when we tell the kids, “look at the deer in our field,” or “check out those turkey in our field.” It is not really our field though, but our neighbors. I’m sure they don’t mind our possessive admiration of their field though.