Outside on the lanai, under rented white canopies, mason jars filled with sun-brewed sweet tea sit untouched on the table. Tears of condensation roll down the glass, leaving wet circles on the old linen cloth. Gran's tatted lace doilies, yellow and wilted with age, hang forlornly from the backs of the chairs. The stifling gloom … Continue reading Honeysuckle tears
Tag: writing prompt
Lost
By my third loop through the house ~ bedroom. bathroom, laundry room, living room, kitchen ~ I had progressed from confused to annoyed to down right pissed. This frantic forgetfulness happened far too often, but in no other aspect of my life. I can remember names and faces. I can recall minutia from three weeks ago that … Continue reading Lost
Prom queen
“Not if you were the last person on earth!” She made flouncing an art form. An effortless flip of her perfectly coiffed fall of auburn hair, a quick turn on her delicate, well-pedicured heels, and she was a distant memory. A faint aroma of singed ear hairs settled in a fog around him, his cheeks … Continue reading Prom queen
Leftovers
A crockpot simmers on the kitchen counter, its lid rattling under the built up pressure of steam, filling the room with the rich aroma of apples, cinnamon and oranges. Mulled cider being the drink of choice while packing Christmas decorations to go back into the attic. Stacks of opaque plastic bins stand at attention in … Continue reading Leftovers
The wolf comes knocking
Scanning the household calendar, practically every day is filled in with color-coded notations showing when which bill comes due. Scribbled at two-week intervals, a lone red, magic marker dot in the top right corner of a Friday block indicates paydays. I don't have much time, he'll be here soon. Stacks of debit statements spread out … Continue reading The wolf comes knocking
Stomping on broken glass
Forget tiptoeing on egg shells around you. It’s more like stomping on broken glass. As much as I try to skirt the issue, telling you I don’t want to talk about it anymore, you continue to poke that bruise. He made his decision, and you have to recognize what it is and acknowledge neither of … Continue reading Stomping on broken glass
Thin spiral notebook 