I’m home making dinner and my cell phone rings.
I check the number and groan. Phone scammers now send calls using the same area code and first three digits of a nearby town. In my case, each call says “Groton.”
No one in Groton is on my address list.
I ignore the call and sauté the onions before the phone rings again. And three minutes later, again.
Just about ready to throw the phone in the drawer and lock it up, I notice that the “scammer” has left a voice mail message. Weird. Scammers never leave a “calling card,” so to speak. Continue reading
On holidays, my far-away family makes sure we talk to each other on the phone sometime during the day: my brother calls from Maryland as his wife scurries in the kitchen, my guy’s siblings call at usually a most inconvenient time, like when we’ve just sat down for dessert. But still, we stop, we exclaim Happy Fill in the Blank (Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year, Easter) and we fill up with love.
Which brings me to the phone conversation with my son toward the end of Easter. Continue reading
The music takes me away from my writing chair here and brings me to where. Any where I want to go. On this morning, I’d like to go back to the weekend, where my son-in-law sets an individual lava cake ramekin in front of me, proud of his accomplishment, beaming in my praise.
Sons-in-law have it tough, I muse now as a chilly May breeze blows through my window, bird song following with twirling high notes of friendly greetings.
My Christmas pantoum poem of family and love and walks in the newly fallen snow is shared here by the marvelous Sally of Smorgasbord – Variety is the spice of life.
May your own memories of special holidays – new and old – bring you PEACE and JOY.
via Smorgasbord Christmas Posts from Your Archives- #Poetry – As Snow Falls by Pamela S. Wight
Sometimes I wonder if souls can shatter, despite their superb strength.
As I drive the seven hours to my mom’s facility where she is suffering from end-stage dementia, my heart beats fast and fills up with pale blue, silky pink emotions. At 6:30 a.m. I’ve been driving for over an hour. The sun begins its rosy ascent over the paved hard highway, and I’m lulled by the soft snores of my daughter in the passenger seat and my two young grandsons in the back seat, covered from chin to toe in soft flannel blankets. Continue reading