First Light

Day 20 and here is my task for the Rise and Write daily prompt.  I am a day late and will be doing two today and getting caught up. I'm going to try another fiction take, building on my last short story. Here is the prompt: Write about a summer day – a particular one or a fictional one. Where are you (or where is your character)? What’s the weather is like? What are you doing or wanting to do? Are there people around you, or are you alone? Write about your thoughts and feelings on that summer day.

Kara and her family had another week left to spend at her mother's cabin in Minnesota.  Actually Paul, her husband ,and Brent her son would be leaving in three days to prepare for college.  Paul had a new crew of teaching assistants and PhD candidates to acclimate, and Brent would be starting his senior year on the other side of the state.  He had friends he still wanted to see, so he and Paul would be flying home, where Kara would take her time, stopping at a different friend's home on the way back. As was normal, Kara was up early, with first light, not wanting to miss a moment of the solitude the early morning lake brings before the boats and motor toys come out.  This particular morning was an incredibly glorious gift.  At 6:30, it was already warm, and she knew the day would get steamy.  Later she would find a spot in the shade, surround herself with a magazine or two, the Susan Shreve book she was reading, and a small cooler that held provisions to refuel her ice tea cravings.  

Now, she through on her swim suit under a pair of khaki cargo shorts, a tank top and a baseball cap, grabbed an apple for herself and a couple doggie treats for Kota, and headed to the canoe rack.  Kota, their eight year old German Shepherd, was not fond of swimming particularly, but he loved riding along in the canoe.  He would settle in for the first ten minutes of paddling, but as he acclimated his water legs, he would shift to the front of the canoe, and assume the positron of crew leader, while Kara paddled sleekly and elegantly, gilding the  small canoe through the water. At the far end of the small lake, out of view form her mother's cabin and in a spot where the incline up to the main road was too steep for cabins on the shoreline, she paused to eat her apple, and enjoy the wooded view.  Kota sat don again, expecting his first treat.  He wouldn't get the other until they were back home. 

There, Kara's mind pondered the events of the last 10 days.  They had packed the jeep with stuff for five people, and a dog, and made an ambitious two day drive, stopping midway at a camp site in Indiana where they met friends for one night, before finishing the trip and arriving late.  most slept in the next morning, but not Kara.  She allowed herself naps in the summer as the nights around the fire got late, and she wasn't going to sleep away the morning solitude. Since learning her brother and his family were going to be moving into the cabin. at least for the short term, while he attempted to get his finances in order, she wondered if coming home to the cabin would remain the same.  It sounded like her brother was not only starting from scratch repairing the damage he caused his own finances with his failed business deal, but he had potentially jeopardized his mother's financial security, since their father had invested heavily before he passed away in the venture. She would probably really know very little; her mother never confided in her in such things, having put Kara in a lifelong box of being a child.No, it was Jim her mother had turned to to help sort all the financial details after her father died while  Kara was to play hostess and personal secretary for the social side of her mothers life. 

Kara was one to have multiple plans and solutions going on in her head at all times.  While the family she grew up in thought of her as simple, unambitious, and not worldly, her own family, and Paul's saw her as the problem solver. It was part of her calm demeanor to never fall apart in the the face of adversity, real or potential, but to visualize scenarios and actions and outcomes. She knew she would have several  options developed by the end of her canoe ride should the bottom fall out for her mother, if anyone would care to ask her. 

Kara looked at the wooded area above the lake, seeing the first hints of fall color, even though it was only early August. As much as she loved the fall colors of her family lake home and her home in New England, she wasn't ready for fall yet. She let the rising sun heat up her face, her legs, and her arms.  She soaked it all in. She started her paddling again, seeing the  lake community slowly coming awake as she paddled by each cabin.  There were a few fishing boats out, still and silent, their masters lazily holding rods draped over the sides of the boat. She said a silent prayer that all would work out for her brother and his family, and more so that this feeling of peace and serenity would last. 

Not My House

19

Write about a disappointment. Were you the one who felt it, or someone you cared about was disappointed? How did it make you feel?

Haven't we all had many disappointments in our life?  Promotions or jobs passed over or maybe missing out on a special event because of illness,  are part of life. One disappointment though I think about from time to time is our failed bid on my then dream home.  We were late to get an offer in, and another families was accepted just moments before the seller saw ours.

I sometimes imagine that we would still be living there, twenty eight years later, though more than likely after three kids it would have been thought to be too small.  It was a small dutch colonial, barn looking house with  built in cabinets int he dining room, old plumbing, and creeky stairs.  It was cute and charming and no doubt would have been a money pit.  It was also a house I had imagined living in, raising my children, with a dog curled up by the fire place.  It had a single bathroom upstairs, and an old kitchen, ready to have paint and  cute curtains. The whole house was hard wood, as house built at the turn of the 20th century were.  It was in our price range, and I would have spent the summer before we got married making it our own.  

 We ended up buying another quaint, even tinier house.  It too was old and a fixer upper, and provided a an affordable, if not cramped space to live for three years.  We sold it for a tidy profit, which allowed us to buy the house we are still in today.  While it was cute, it did not have the custom features of my dutch colonial.  I didn't feel too nostalgic moving on.  it was a house.  It was a good house, and we made it our home for those brief years, but I didn't have a heart longing affinity for it as I would have with the one we lost. 

Years later the Dutch Colonial was featured in the little local paper in a segment, "I've always wondered about...".  Here the couple that had won the bid before ours was interviewed, showing all their efforts in maintaining the home, and keeping it true to it's origins.  I was happy to learn that the house found owners that lived it and cared for it as I imagined I would have. I still think,if they ever sold it, I would take another look.  the house would be impractical now.  I sometimes drive by it, as it is near a friend of my daughters house.  I smile and say hello, and silently wish the owners well. 

Rise and Write link up holds all the prompts and other writers creations.

What a Couple Trees

18

Write about a pine tree – any pine tree, a real one which grows in your yard or in the woods where you go for a walk, or a pine tree you saw on your vacation, or a pine tree painted by an artist. What it looks like, smells like, how does it feel to touch? Where to start wit this prompt!  Visit the rest of the Rise and Write link ups here. This was a true prompt-11 minutes. 

We have four pine trees in our back yard.  For a brief time there were six, quickly dwindled to five due to the one unhealthy spot in the yard.  Two summers ago, number five dried up and died and now is waiting it's fate in logs under the deck with the river birch we lost a few years ago.  Little by little, log by log, the trees will be part of weekend fire and lazy relaxing around the fire pit. Two of the four left were purchased with the other two that died, part of our first summer landscaping.  The were all about 6 feet tall when they went in the ground, but without girth.  The last two though were bought on a whim. Two little pines in pots, smaller than our then three year old, and about the size of the one year old.We found these and bought one for each kid at a Menards store, not a garden store. Humble beginnings, but have these two ever grown and thrived.  They are fuller and taller than the remaining two landscape trees, reaching more than a dozen feet to the sky.  

I love these trees.  For a few years, I tried to get pictures with my squirming and growing kids, but being a poor photographer, I couldn't find anything decent to try and scan for this post.  Perhaps when I go back and edit, i'll find something suitable.  As the trees have grown, they've morphed into creating a hideaway, a barrier between the neighbors and the park.  This was a perfect spot for my now blown away and smashed up chaise lounge chairs.  I am on the hunt for more.  They leave me gifts of pine cones to put in bowls each Christmas, and block out the too bright morning sun when I am trying to have my Saturday morning coffee on the deck. 

Some day, another family will live in our house, and our now haphazard tree assortment of trees will be cut down and cleared for a more cultivated landscaping.  I won't worry about that now.  It will be a few years before we move on, so until then, I'll continue to think of these two trees in association with my two oldest children. May my children reach the heights that their conifer siblings have.

Money...

Write about the first money you earned. Was it for a chore you did for your family, or you got a job outside of home? Was it for something you enjoyed doing? Remember the moment when you held money (or a check) in your hands for the first time. How did it make you feel? It is day 17 of Rise and Write, though for me, it is crash on the couch after a head spinning day and write.  Click HERE for the Link Up.

Once I had my first "gig", it seems I had an endless supply of them for the next five years.  I'm talking about my babysitting jobs. First, for family, watching nieces and nephews, for long nights and very little pay, less than the going rate would have been had they hired non family. In those days $1.00 an hour was pretty typical, but often, more for families that had more kids, or required you to feed the kids. Not in my faily, and a few conveniently nver seemed ot have cash when they got home, so would pay me next time. I picked up jobs for neighbor families, and took jobs passed on by my friends who had to turn down for either another scheduled job, or a family commitment. Those were usually the best paying jobs because I was helping out in a pinch. 

For family though, and I am ashamed to admit it, I did not like to babysit in my junior high years, even though I  did so much of it. I found the kids annoying, and the parents, my siblings, even ore so,  regularly switching up the rules on me. I had multiple plans cancelled because without prior notice, the end time changed by several hours. I started to resent both parents and kids as I felt like I didn't even get a say in babysitting for family members. It was just assumed that if one of them needed a baby sitter, their life was more important than mine, so I was expected to buck it up and say yes.  I had multiple Saturdays, intending to enjoy a quiet day, when suddenly, the kids would be dropped off, and I was now expected to watch them.  It was always unpaid when at my mom and dads. 

In families, we often feel under appreciated as I often did, and was passive aggressive about it, never speaking my mind. It showed when I was with the kids instead. I had been the babysitter the kids didn't want, but were stuck with, their misbehavior a response. As I moved into high school, I matured in my own human development besides age. Looking back, there was a lot of mental health  and destructive issues circling my extended family. As an adolescent, I was too young and immature to understand, and only could see how I thought I was being dumped on. Then slowly, over time, as I was getting out of the awkward, cranky, antagonistic early teen years, I started to appreciate the little beings as something more than mess makers.  A few hard situations in my family where I became the comforting aunt, helped me see the caring and compassion I really had for kids. 

While babysitting was my first money earned, I never made the big bucks a couple of my friends made with their regular clients.  In hind sight, though, I and my nieces and nephews, many who later baby sat for me, earned our battle scars being stuck with each other. 

School Friend

Good morning Day 15 of the Rise and Write series of prompts, impromptus, and sketches based on a common theme.  This morning I am going third person again, my tool I use when an event or a story is based on real events or people, but morphed with creative license and varied details, plus a bit of anonymity by using fictitious names. Today's prompt, write about a friend from your school years, fits this way of writing well.  

She and her former classmates were near religious in following the reunion cycle of every 5 years.  Up until the twentieth, the reunion had been planned by the three class officers and anyone they could get to help.  With the adage of Facebook and other social media, by the time the 25th and 30th reunions was being planned, fatigue had set in by those three, and planning became an open invitation for anyone who wanted to help.  The reunion events were casual from that point on, and besides the every 5 year one, impromptu gatherings became the norm. This is how Lisa reconnected with a former friend from elementary school.  

Thirty-nine and a half years earlier, Debbie and her family moved to town.  When you grow up in a small town with generations of families, having fresh faces is a big deal.  At first, everyone wanted to be the new girls friend. Then over time, as 3rd grade friendships were solidified, the glamour wore off, and Debbie melded into normal. But not to Lisa.  To Lisa, she thought Debbie was unique to all the other friends she had. Lisa and her friends were the quiet, background kids, who spent more effort trying to stay out of attentions way than trying to stand out.  They did their own things, and let the vibrant, pretty children capture the teachers attention. In these days, organized sports for girls younger than 12 were rare.  Phy Ed was the only form of sports for girls, until finally there was an after school option for 5th and 6th grade girls. In athletics, Lisa naturally stood out from most girls. Until Debbie came along. 

Debbie came from a family of athletes.  All were tall and muscular for their ages, and lived and breathed sports. Where in Lisa's family they might play a game of PIG or HORSE outside on the hoop hanging on the garage, at Debbie's house they had three on three games, with no mercy on Debbie or her younger brother. They went for family runs and had weights and sit up benches that were actually used in their basement. Elementary  years closed out with Track and Field Day, Debbie winning first place ribbons in just about all her events, Lisa with a small collection of second and third place finishes. 

 In the mile, a track event that Lisa normally finished first, even after Debbie was in the school,  Lisa felt a sharp pain going into the last lap. She knew she was slowing down, but her body just wouldn't let her go faster as the pain increased. Debbie, as well as two other girls passed her by and she didn't even get a ribbon in the event. Lisa was crying huge wet tears by the time she completed the race.  Her ankle was in real pain.  Debbie was the first one over to her. "What happened?  Are you OK." she asked her.  Debbie waved a couple teachers over to show them Lisa's ankle.  It was discolored and swollen. Lisa''s parents were called, and she was taken to the doctor.

It turned out that not only had Lisa sprained her ankle, there was also a small fracture in the bone. She returned for the last two days before summer vacation, in a walking cast, using crutches the first day as the plaster hadn't fully set. She would be spending the first half of summer in that cast. As the kids were finishing packing up the class room, cleaning book shelves, stacking books on carts, and cleaning their desks as was the last day of school ritual, Debbie came over to Lisa with something in her hand.  It was the 1st place mile ribbon.  "You should have won.  This is really yours." Debbie was competitive, but more so, kind. 

The two stayed friendly in middle school and high school, but had different circles.  Debbie continued to grow in her athleticism, while Lisa had peaked at 12, never more than a bench player. Debbie was featured periodically in the local paper for her college sports successes. Lisa went to college, married young, and started a family, exposing her children to a variety of sports and opportunities.  At each of the reunions since graduation, Lisa and Debbie found a few moments for a catch-up. Debbie too became a wife and mother, with her daughter taking after her in athleticism, but her son, a different path. Not surprisingly, Debbie's career took her in the sports medicine direction, so fitting after she rushed to her friends aid when they were 12. 

Road Trip and Thunderstorms

15 and Week number three of Rise and Write.  Pop over to visit Natalia at Out of the Writers Closet to learn more.  The prompt for today is to write about a thunderstorm.

The Midwest hosts regular thunderstorms each summer, leaving n shortage of events to think about.  I love a good loud rolling thunder and a cracking of lightning in the sky. I am fortunate that none of my children were frightened by them, just the opposite.  On the severe ones that trigger the sirens going off, each would like to still , if we would have let them, stand by the back double windowed door and watch the show in all its majesty. 

Driving in a thunderstorms is another matter. The most memorable experience was in the summer of 2002.  We had all been at my nephews graduation party for the day, but were set to leave early the next morning for a 11 hour road trip to Branson, Missouri for vacation.  DH and the older kids went home earlier to do a final packing, and preload the car.  The plan was to be on the road by 5:00.  I was staying longer to help my sister clean up, and keep DD#2, then an 18 month old toddler, out of his way.  Before the party ended, the first of what was going to be a series of storms came through. By the time I was about to go home, there were already several streets  impassable due to flash flooding.  The storms continued, giving  DH little sleep.  finally about 2:00, and a break in the storms, he decided it would behoove us to just get on the road.  He was wide awake and figured the kids would sleep more and after driving 3-4 hours, we could stop for breakfast and a stretch, and he could get a 30 minute nap.  

We weren't prepared for the storm to follow our route south.  Within an hour outside of town, the rains picked up again.  They continued to be heavier with each mile until eventually it was so hard by the time we reached the Iowa border, he couldn't see and we were forced to pull over. It was still very early morning and no hint of sun, making vision even poorer.  The kids slept on, the little one in her car seat, and the older two locked in with seat belts, but each stretching out as best they could making makeshift beds with their pillows and blankets. We just sat on the side of the highway, along with all the other cars, waiting until it seemed like conditions were improved. After 30 minutes or so, the rain was slowing down, sight improved, and DH gently coaxed the van back on the road.  once more we had to pull over, and a second time, we were rerouted off the highway via an exit ramp, and back onto it via he entrance ramp. Apparently the section of highway in between had standing water so deep, cars were getting stalled. Slowly the rain stopped and by the time the sun was coming up, the storm seemed to be winding down.   The kids groggily woke up, asking when we were stopping for food. We stopped at probably a fast food place off the highway where I took the kids in to eat.  DH stayed in the van and slept hard. It was sunshine and blue sky's for the remainder of our trip.

Wake and Think

We are at day 14 of the Rise and Write challenge.  I don't know if ore are in store, but I have enjoyed the process.  Here is the final prompt of week two. 

What was the first thing you thought about this morning? Did you think about your dream and wondered what it meant? Did you think about the list of things you have to do today? Did you think of breakfast? Of a work situation? Of your parents, partner, your child or your pet? Was it a creative idea you want to work on? Was it an unusual thought, or something you typically think in the morning?

I went to bed last night, in a drunken state, not from alcohol, but of trying to watch a couple episodes of a Neflix drama. I fell asleep 15 minutes into the first episode and woke up with about 10 minutes left in the second.  A woman was being chased through the streets of London until she made it to the underground, and managed to get on a train before her pursuer made it to the platform. Now I'll need to back track and watch both.  I slept rough last night. I hate falling asleep watching shows. The screen images blurry with my own thoughts, and I get very odd dreams. I woke still thinking about the odd dream I had. I wasn't being chased in my dream,  but I recall there was a heated conversation, and it was with the man that was chasing the women in the program, or at least with similar looks.  I just kept repeating, "No, we have to get there.  We have to get there tonight." He had hold of my sleeve and was holding tight as I was trying to pull away. In most of my dreams, I'm always how I remember looking at age 20.  Even dreams that have my kids surfacing in, I am 20.  What is my brain trying to tell me there? 

Dreams fascinate me.  How the images and and words that seem so real, yet often have nothing to do with anything you can connect to reality, form in the subconscious is both exciting and a bit scary  I am a pretty devout Christian, believing in God, Jesus, the resurrection,and heaven and hell.  Still, I am open to thinking there could be even more to life and the after life than what previous Christians of old chose to capture in the bible and what theologians teach and preach about today.  Are lives recycled and reincarnated, and what we get in dreams is bits and pieces of our own life? Are these images of future life to come? Here is a weird thought I have sometimes when I first wake up after a particularly  intense dream. Are the dreams real, and is my day to day existence the dream?  I have actually pinched myself in the morning to assure myself I am awake and not dreaming any longer. I'll think off and on today in little blips of day dreaming, about this dream, trying to decipher some meaning. By the time I go to ed, all image of it will be gone though, my brain prepped for new visuals. 

My dream from last night was my first thought this morning.  I didn't think long as I needed to push my body up and out from under the sheets and get both  day 13 and 14 Rise and Write prompts completed. Yesterday was a rare sleep in, and I didn't get out of bed until after 6:00.  I didn't even take time for my morning "think", the usual first task of the day.  This will have to suffice.