“It just always seems like we’re not on the same page.”
His hand sits there… waiting to be held. She picks up her phone… her hands are busy constantly, texting and checking. What is she waiting for? “...bad decisions that we made. So don’t tell me what to do” “I’m not telling you what to do.” “Yeah you are…” Now his hands are crossed in front of his body…. And in his pockets. They go outside; to sit in the sun to get away…. To get privacy... and her, to get space. Now sit across from each other, eye to eye, rather than right next to each other as they did inside. It is another teenage love gone awry. Get rid of the damn phone! * * * * * Ahhh, Spring Love. Sorry for the belated post. I hope you enjoy my moment of being ever so grateful I am no longer a teenager. Interestingly, while looking for a photo for this page I found a great article about why overheard cell phone conversations bug us so much. Check it out: http://www.inquisitr.com/73477/other-peoples-annoying-cell-phone-conversations/
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“Can we look in this box?”
My daughter decided, on Mother’s Day, to explore the attic. She had found one of the boxes before, a red dress from one of my childhood dolls had drawn her to it like cotton candy at the fair. Proud of herself, she had already rescued two dolls, packed away for 30 something years, and was now on the lookout for anything else she might add to her collection. Sadly for her, she lost interest pretty quickly. What remained in the box were mostly letters and cards, along with some high school memorabilia (like my old school uniform- which caught my hubby’s eye, but that is another story). As I searched through the letters I found, stuffed between them, an old story I had written in my creative writing class in college. It brought back fond memories of that spring semester, writing outside in the California sun and being inspired by my wonderful professor, the amazing poet, Ed Kleinschmidt (now married to Frances Mayes of UNDER A TUSCAN SUN fame.) I wrote, in my last blog post, that passion comes from combining talent and interest. That semester, as I rushed to class, as I stayed up late to work on poems and stories, as I listened to published authors share their secrets, even as I received harsh feedback on my own work, I discovered that combination. And yet, it took many years for me to pursue it. Because there is one more thing that I forgot about passion… it also takes courage. Ironic then, that the story I wrote all the way back then was related to this very idea. I’ve created a new web page here to share some of my old and new work, starting with this very story (as is, no edits). I hope you enjoy. Deanne |
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June 2020
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