Familia Del Sol

Respect the relationship we have with the sun

Advertisements
1024px-caspar_david_friedrich_-_frau_vor_untergehender_sonne
by Caspar David Friedrich

“What are you doing, mama?” Little Lollie asked.

“I am raising the sun sweetheart, just like I do every morning, silly girl.” Mother replied giving little Lollie a smile as she continued slowly lifting her arms skyward.

“Watch it dawn, and pay close attention. We mustn’t move too fast.”

Lollie watched with wide eyes in awe of the regal woman before her.

“This magic will be yours one day, and the sun will rise and set at your command. Remember not to worship the power of our ability but respect the relationship we have with the sun.”

“So pretty mama!” She giggled, her ringlets bouncing against her forehead.

“Yes it is sweetheart, and it has so much work to do during the day. We will come back and set it once it is finished.”

Task complete, mother took Lollie’s hand. “Do you feel its strength pulsing through you?”

“Yes!” Lollie shouted and stomped her feet in excitement. “I can’t wait til sunset so we can put the sun back to bed so it can rest.”

Mother grinned proudly at her vivacious little girl.

– Written for Jane Dougherty Writes, Microfiction Challenge #13: Woman in the sun. Painting prompt by Caspar David Friedrich. Prompt words were dawn, sunset, worship, magic, power, regal. WC 183.

Unexpected

We all stared at each other uncomfortably.

For once dinner won’t be just about eating.

Timing was important. Tommy always ate fast and asked to be excused to his room to play video games. Jenna texted with her boyfriend Michael throughout dinner, and Shauna would have her earbuds in the entire time.

They knew something was up when we collected devices before sitting down at the table.

We all stared at each other uncomfortably. I was surprised when there wasn’t more of a protest over the devices.

I started by spooning some mashed potatoes onto my plate. Everyone followed suit and began making their plates as well.

“So,” I said. “Dad and I have something we need to talk to you about.

Daniel spoke. “Your mother and I…This is harder than I thought. We…”

“We are getting a divorce,” I rushed the words to finish for him. Finally saying it out loud was a relief, but I was quickly flooded with anxiety waiting for them to respond.

“Is that all?” Shauna asked.

“Great, can I have my phone back now?” asked Jenna wryly.

“Tell us something we don’t know.” Tommy blurted out sarcastically.

– Written for YeahWrite.me fiction|poetry #270. Prompt up sentence, “For once dinner won’t be about just eating.” WC 186.

Lighting The Way Home

The longer they were gone, the less they felt tethered to the physical world, and the less they were hindered by it.

It had been a long time since anyone went to see them, and they didn’t mind. They understood that it was painful to slow down busy lives long enough to notice their absence. It just made everyone sad, so they rather no one came at all, and they took no offense to it.

It was pleasant, and they didn’t feel the pain of missing anyone or the pain of age or illness. They spent most days dancing among the flowers, and among the stars at night.

They lived a full life, though it might have been nice to live longer or do greater things, but they weren’t sure anymore. The longer they were gone, the less they felt tethered to the physical world, and the less they were hindered by it.

They recalled being parents and grandparents. Those were happy memories, but the desire to be anywhere seemed less and less.

An evening came when joy overwhelmed them. They felt as if they could explode. She ran her hand across the top of their headstone, and it felt so foreign, rough at first but then quickly became intangible. Her hand appeared transparent, but it didn’t concern her.

Suddenly fireflies surrounded them, so many that it almost seemed like daylight again. They fluttered around and gently tickled their skin. He spread his arms out and spun slowly taking them all in.

They felt weightless as their feet unexpectedly lifted from the ground. They smiled at one another. They were quickly enmeshed in the glow, and with sheer delight, they burst into a multitude of tiny celestial lights and were dispersed by the breeze into the heavens.

– Written for YeahWrite.me fiction|poetry #269. Prompt up sentence, “For a long time no one went to see them.” WC 275. Photo by controltheweb. “Lighting The Way Home” was named 3rd place in this contest.

My Grandparents, My Anchors

They weren’t perfect. They were human.

old pic of mamaw and papaw
Joyce & James Barrow circa 1950’s

Both transplants from different states, they met and married in Florida, and started a family.

She was amazingly talented and intelligent and learned a lot through life experiences. He was talented and resourceful and had spent some time in the Army.

They had three children and four grandchildren. She taught them strength and compassion.

They held private concerts in the grandkids’ room, where they would sing and play guitar and mesmerize them.

They spoiled the grandkids while trying to instill manners and appreciation.

They weren’t perfect. They were human.

They passed away within 6 months of one another, leaving a canyon of memories where their light had once been.

For better or worse, they made me who I am. I miss them and wish they could see the woman I have become; maybe they can from wherever they are.

– This entry was compiled for Hugh’s Weekly Photo Challenge: Week 27 – Vintage. WC 133.

Big Brother

Every now and again, the guilt of their happiness would bring them to tears…

He loved his big brother and missed him terribly. Without hesitation, he always gave Jason credit for the man he had become. He felt at odds over being happy without his brother, and even more so about his current happiness being a result of his brother’s death.

Erin and Jason met in Afghanistan, and Cody and Erin met at Jason’s funeral in Paris, where he said he wanted to be buried.

Jason was stationed overseas and after spending some time in Paris vowed to make it his home when he retired from the military.

On his first tour in Afghanistan, he met a friendly helicopter pilot, and they became fast friends. On his second tour, he met an IED.

Erin and Cody bonded over their mutual loss and were swept up in the romance of Paris, the city of love. They both decided to stay there for a while and often visited the cemetery to talk to Jason about the life they were building together.

Every now and again, the guilt of their happiness would bring them to tears, but they knew deep down that Jason would be overjoyed for them. They both knew the kind man he was.

Today’s visit to see Jason was to deliver some very exciting news.

“Hey big brother, guess what,” Cody said, his voice cracking. Erin reached for his hand and squeezed it reassuringly. “It won’t be long now we will be welcoming baby Jason.”

“Did you hear that, Jason? We’re going to have a baby!” Erin reiterated. “We wish you were here to meet your namesake.” She finished and wiped a silent tear from her cheek.

They hugged and smiled.

“You’d be proud, big brother,” Cody said as they turned to leave. “I am so proud of you.”

pere-lachaise-cemetery-1172324_1920
– Written for Microcosms 22 weekly contest. Prompts Book ending sentence: “He loved Big Brother.”/Setting: Paris Cemetery/Genre: Romance. WC 295. Photo from Pixabay.com.

Soulmate

Family by choice, in spite of repeated objection,
Risk of rejection.
Innocent love, in light of dejection,
Endeavors to remain true.
Never apart by heart from you.
Devoted friends and lovers by
Soul’s selection.

260093_626433405936_5266044_n
– Written for WordPress Blogging University, Intro to Poetry, Day 3: Friend, Acrostic.
WP_Bloggin_U_Logo

Who Cares?

They think they hear his voice tonight.

“Who cares!?” She yells, and slams the door.

I care.

“Who cares?” He says, and leaves once more.

I care.

She screams into a pillow. He slams his hand on the steering wheel.

I’m scared.

These days anger is all they seem to feel.

It’s not fair.

Who cares? He thinks as he stares up the stairs and wonders why they fight.

Do they care that he used to cry himself to sleep at night?

They think he’s gone, but he’s still here, even though it’s been a year.

They think they hear his voice tonight.

He heads for the door. She turns on the light.

They meet on the porch to make things right.

“I care,” she cries. “I care,” he replies.

“I care.” They hear, though barely more than a sigh.

– Written for YeahWrite.me Weekly Fiction|Poetry Writing Challenge 262 Question Prompt “Who cares?” WC 133