writing prompt

Old Love

/ wvfurandroot / Leave a comment

You are sitting in the hotel downtown waiting for your lover to arrive. The snowfall is alarming, and you know he hates driving in adverse conditions. The weather this Valentine’s Day is nothing but adverse conditions, but you pleaded with him.

“Please! I want to see you!” And you do, but you want to wear your new outfit just as much as you want to see him. You peer out the window and sigh. With or without him, you are going to your prix fixe dinner reservation. You are stuck in town with the snow and there’s no safe way to get home. You ponder how to get across the street to the restaurant in stiletto heels.

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A Very Bad Thing

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Photo by Bruno Nascimento on Unsplash

In 7th grade, maybe eighth grade, my best friend and I decided to go out for track. 

I don’t know why.  Neither of us were the least bit athletic and the only thing I can imagine is that the running craze was starting in the US.  So, there we were: two extremely skinny girls standing in the hot North Carolina sun waiting for Mrs. Anders to start track practice.  Within minutes we learned that showing up was all it took to be on the team. 

With no further ado, she set us to running laps.  This was late August in coastal Carolina.  It wasn’t just hot, it was need-to-grow-gills-to-breathe hot and humid.  Miserable.  And this was in the days when it was believed that drinking water while exercising was a Bad Thing.  A Very Bad Thing.

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Adventures in Rural Living

/ wvfurandroot / 1 Comment

Paulo Coelho says, “The adrenaline and stress of an adventure are better than a thousand peaceful days.” 

Normally, I’d agree with old Paulo.  Today?  Not so much.

I’ve had adventures in my lifetime.  Due to my Inner Drama Queen even events that aren’t exactly adventures qualify because I make mountains out of molehills – both good and bad.

Today, I’m hoping the mountain is a molehill.  I have to get down my hill. Have to.  I will be stark raving mad if I do not.

I have been out one day in the past two weeks.  One day.  I am stir crazy. I am beyond stir crazy.  I’m eating everything in sight, talking to myself, and even considering cleaning. 

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The Little Blue House

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Somewhere there is a little blue house nestled amongst irises and mature trees.  The little blue house has seen the trees grow from saplings to the giants they are now.  They’ve grown up together.

The little blue house is not so little now.  Over the years, Pete and Martha have added on — first to accommodate their children and then their grandchildren.  Soon it will be time to leave the little blue house to someone who will love it and move to small, more convenient digs somewhere in town close to doctors and pharmacies.  Pete and Martha are at that age.

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