Self portrait by S. Lindau
The girl on the page was sullen.
She had so much to give
And so much to do.
She followed the whims of the author,
Who took her to task,
Forced her to go through,
The fantasies that surrounded
The world in her head;
The dreams that she knew.
But the girl planned a way to confound her.
She imbedded a thought
That created the truth.
She broke through the chains that confined her.
No longer was held
As the author’s keys fell.
So she took control of the author
And told her that she
Would rather be free.
To live her life out in the open
Where she could be heard.
For those understood Continue reading
While unpacking Christmas decorations the day after Thanksgiving, I received calls from my grown children. This year they “stopped by” for left-overs. It occurred to me how some of our family’s traditions had changed while some had lasted through the years. Continue reading
Timmy came up with the plan while his cousins slept in sleeping bags on the carpeted floor of the basement. A gusty breeze buffeted the old ranch-style home. Timmy listened to the clock chime from the living room. Continue reading
Do you have a super fan? Someone who encourages you when you want to quit because you feel like a no-talent nobody? Someone who is always in your corner to support you when you have been punched and are down for the count? Someone who will ask you, “How many fingers do you see?” and then will tell you, “You’re fine! Get back in the ring and fight!” Someone who can see that you are down, but not completely out as they hand you an ice pack and rub your sore shoulders? Someone who can point you back in the direction of your dream when your eyes have swollen shut causing momentary blindness?
Jacob knew he should destroy the photograph as he grasped it in his trembling hand. Her gold spun hair seemed to radiate with intensity. Her soft blue eyes that had dazzled him had changed to grey flint. The soft curves he had clung to had become taut muscle. Continue reading
There have been nights when my poor husband Danny has come home from work and found me in the same position as when he left; still stooped over my keyboard. After promising to finish in a few more minutes, I have often typed for another hour. Giving up on being served a home cooked meal, he sauntered across the kitchen and opened the empty refrigerator.
“Were you planning on eating tonight?” he asked politely while staring at the empty shelves. What he really means is, “When are you planning to go to the grocery store so we can have a proper meal?”
I get so absorbed with writing that I forget to check the time and the day slips away. Continue reading
Jane’s special day had come again and she bounced through the house with renewed vigor. It seemed like a lifetime had passed since she felt this strong. Her illness had dissipated. An old memory skittered back to her like flipping to a page in her blue velvet album. Continue reading