Reflections of…the way life used to be* #atozReflections #atozchallenge

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A to Z Challenge Reflections

This was my first A to Z Challenge so it was quite an experience. Fortunately I have done nanowrimo and octpowrimo so I do have some experience with the task of writing everyday. It was very, very nice to have Sundays off though, which you don’t get with the other two challenges.

What made this a tremendous experience for me was finding fellow bloggers who were also doing the challenge. Some bloggers I’ve been reading for months and some were new to me, but I enjoyed reading their works progress through the month.

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Z is for Zealous #AtoZchallenge #amwriting

What a month! Yay! My first A to Z challenge completed. Thanks to all of you who read my stories and gave me feedback–your encouragement really helped! It was interesting coming up with new flash pieces every day, but really fulfilling and I hope you had some enjoyment reading the stories. Is it too early to start thinking about next year’s theme? 🙂

zealous

When I wasn’t looking, my sister, Theresa, became a zealot. Once close, we used to talk about everything but these days she always asks, “You still a liberal atheist?”–which sounds like her asking me if I kick puppies and steal old ladies’ purses.

Once I answered with “guilty as charged.” She informed me I was guilty of sanctimonious enabling. Now I’m careful with my responses.

“I’m homeschooling my kids,” she announces as we set the Thanksgiving table.

“Oh?”

“Public school fills their heads with ideas.”

I wait, expecting her ironic laugh, which doesn’t come. “Can’t have that.”

 

end 4/30/2017

S. Darlington

The End of the World as We Know It–Y is for Yucky #AtoZchallenge #amwriting

y

 

yucky

The “oh” escaped my lips, high-pitched, definitely surprised.

Alecia smiled, nodding. “I know, right?” she said. “I’m as shocked as you are.”

Nowhere near.

I looked at Jason who wouldn’t meet my eyes. Alecia captured my hands in hers and jumped up and down just like we used to do when we were teenagers. I was supposed to do it too, jump up and down and screech because she was engaged to Jason, my Jason. My stomach did, however–bounce up and down as if on a nausea-inducing carnival ride.

“I’m happy, so happy for you,” I said, meaning it, for Alecia.

She frowned. “You don’t look well.”

“I’m feeling kind of yucky,” I said. “You know, hanging around preschoolers five days a week, constantly catching something.”

She hugged me, preschooler ailments be damned. “We’ll celebrate when you’re feeling better.”

Which felt like it might be when hell froze over, but I kept that to myself. I wouldn’t let her get hurt, even if my insides felt like they might explode. I glanced at Jason once more, met his eyes, and my imagined preschooler sickness grew in leaps and bounds and hopscotched around and suddenly my life felt like an REM song and I felt not so fine.

 

end 4/29/2017

S. Darlington

X is for Xenophobia #AtoZchallenge #amwriting

x

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Rachel grabbed the sleeve of Andy’s shirt to tug him out of earshot. “Your mother has an accent?”

Andy shrugged. “Sure. Didn’t I mention?”

“No. I would have remembered.”

Andy frowned. Her tone sounded far more irritated than the situation dictated.

“Is it a problem?” he asked.

Rachel nodded. “Probably. My family is not the forgiving type.”

“Forgiving? What?” Realization flooded over Andy. “You’re kidding. My mother wasn’t even born then.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Rachel said, her lips set firmly.

“Get over it. She’s not from where you think she is.”

“She has the accent.”

 

end 4/28/2017

S. Darlington

W is for Weary #AtoZchallenge #amwriting

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weary

Today a driver saw a laundry bag moving in the middle of route 7 and stopped to investigate. Two small dogs were inside. Someone had tossed them in the road to get rid of them instead of taking them to a shelter.

At the rescue the pup looked up at me with big eyes, and I cried. She put her paws on my chest and licked at my tears, demonstrating a huge capacity for forgiveness.

Weariness has tainted my ability to forgive people who don’t comprehend that the sanctity of life extends to all creatures.

I wonder, will they ever understand?

 

end 4/27/2017

S. Darlington

Sisters — V is for Vengeful #AtoZchallenge #amwriting

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vengeful

Sisters

We each have our own truth.

I thought I knew you well enough so our truths overlapped often to become one truth.

And, yet, here I am, amidst the wreckage of your vendetta: ripped memories, broken souvenirs, walls stained with graffiti, realizing I did not understand that it wasn’t truth you were seeking nor justice in the way I understand it. Rather, you sought vengeance because I was born at all.

 

end 4/26/2017

S. Darlington

U is for Unforgiven #AtoZchallenge #amwriting

u

unforgiven.png

“Having children changes you.” These were the truest words Mother ever said.

The moment I held Maria, her big eyes surveying her world, I was smitten.

The second truest thing Mother said was “no matter how well you think you know someone, you don’t.”

Maria’s relationship with her father and me was different. She kept curfew, didn’t lie, and told me everything.

Mother said, “The greatest disappointment is finding out what you thought was true, wasn’t.”

Sitting on Maria’s twin bed, reading her journal, I amassed a list of those who would be unforgiven.

I was at the top.

 

end 4/25/2017

S. Darlington

S is for Sorrow #AtoZChallenge #amwriting

s

sorrow.png

 

“Nathan Bickham lived by the ubiquitous quote: between the choice of being right or being kind, be kind. And Nathan Bickham was the most intelligent man I have ever known so, while he was most often right, he always chose to be kind,” Reverend Keeler said from the pulpit.

There are people you think will live forever because they carry with them a vitality, kindness, and sense of purpose that distinguishes them so completely from the rest of the population. Lena had always placed her grandfather in that extreme minority. She wanted to emulate him, but always felt she failed because her temper came from her grandmother’s side and frequently she felt kindness eluded her, harmony a futile quest.

The cancer riddling his body had not been kind. In true Nathan Bickham fashion though he had fought and continued to live the life he wanted. At ninety he had still been a force to be reckoned with.

“You don’t need a bucket list, Lena,” he told her. “Bucket lists devalue living in the moment.”

With those words she’d put away the paper and pen and stopped constructing lists to compete with the lists of her peers. He taught her to see the natural world, to be open to the experience of watching the woods and observing all of the creatures observing her.

He taught her that relationships were built on openness and trust; that not being forthright for fear of being hurt would hurt in the long-term but the hurt from being forthright would always diminish with time, and the truth gained would supersede pain. He taught her generosity and patience and kindness, but kindness was still an attribute she worked hard to attain.

The one thing he never taught her, although he tried during his last days, was how she could navigate life without his presence.

“I have taught you everything I know,” he said.

Tears pricked her eyes. “But I’m not like you,” she told him.

“You’re more like me than you know, but you are the best you. I’m proud of you. You approach life with grace,” he said.

Yet, that didn’t feel enough.

Later after the mourners left her grandparents’ house, Lena stood at the pond, listened to the throaty bullfrog chorus, watched the water snake’s red bands undulate through the murky water, and relinquished the ache in her chest. She could feel the essence of his words around her, the philosophy with which he lived his life, a shawl of protection and of comfort. Sorrow rose up and away from her, towards the mantle of clouds billowing toward the sea. She understood that while she lost him, his life continued through everyone who knew him, all of those with whom he had selflessly shared himself, and, perhaps the quintessence of Nathan Bickham would always exist in lives well lived with thoughtfulness and kindness. This knowledge that he would never truly be gone consoled.

 

end 4/22/2017

S. Darlington

R is for Rejected #AtoZchallenge #amwriting

“It’s been so busy I almost forgot about the challenge!” she screeched.

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rejected

 

“Just do it. What do you have to lose?” Barbara asked Petra. “Either he says yes or he doesn’t. At least you’ll know and can move on.”

Petra nodded. Excellent advice for most people, but most people were not Petra. They didn’t worry over every little word or every little look or what would happen if he said no and then all of the dreamy possibilities that she’d molded in her fantasies would go splat. Was holding on to a dream better than facing reality?

When Geoff entered the teacher’s lounge, Petra felt herself flush. Barbara nodded fiercely at her then picked up her things and left.

“It’s been a long week,” Geoff said. “Glad today’s a short day.”

Petra nodded and smiled. Words. One was supposed to respond with words. Why couldn’t she think of any?

He sat opposite her, unwrapped his usual peanut butter, no jelly, sandwich, and bit into it. He washed down bites with black coffee, no sugar.

“Geoff, I’ve been thinking . . .” she began.

After a moment he raised his eyebrow. “Yes?”

“Well, it’s like this . . .” She felt her face flame and looked down at the table.

“Is everything okay, Petra. You look like you might have a fever.”

“I do?” she asked vaguely, wondering about that. She felt fine though. She shook away those thoughts.

“I wondered if you might like to get a cup of coffee sometime?” Her voice rushed through the words, even tripping over some.

He held up his mug. “I am having a cup of coffee.”

She nodded. “Er. Maybe you’d like to go out for Chinese?”

He leaned back in his chair and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “Are you asking me out?”

She squeezed her eyes shut tightly and then bounced her head up and down. “Yes.”

“That’s really nice,” he said and then paused.

She felt hope swell in her chest.

“No offense but I don’t date girls like you,” he said.

Splat. She felt it, heard it, and almost couldn’t believe it. “Oh?”

“And the fact that we work together. Yeah, just not a good idea.”

She nodded as if she agreed while all she could think about was escaping. Not his type.

“Right well, no harm, no foul. Right? I have my first parent meeting in ten. I should go. Have a good weekend, Geoff,” she said.

He nodded as he took another bite. “You too,” he said around the crust of bread, crumbs escaping from his mouth.

Strangely she felt like she was really seeing him for the first time.

 

end 4/21/2017

S. Darlington