The June 6, 2008, Writer’s Island prompt: Unexpected
Included in the Everything Worth Reading Carnival

“So have you set a date yet?” I asked my mother a few weeks ago when she informed me that she was remarrying.

I had mixed feelings about her announcement. My father has been gone for nearly three years now. He was ripped away from us so suddenly and unexpectedly that from time to time, I still experience the shock and disbelief that I felt on that horrible day when I heard my mother’s barely audible voice on the phone and knew that I had to get home as quickly as possible.

He awoke early that day, as was his custom. He loved to take Sadie, our beloved springer spaniel, for a walk each morning before eating a light breakfast and heading off to work. My mother always preferred to sleep a little later each morning, so it was the sound of dishes shattering followed immediately by a loud thud that jarred her awake.

She told me later that she screamed involuntarily as her eyes flew open. Before her feet hit the floor, she knew that my father’s spirit had departed the home they shared for more than twenty years. When she saw his lifeless body on the kitchen floor surrounded by the remnants of a shattered plate, cup, and saucer, she knew that their life together had ended.

As if in slow motion, she dialed 9-1-1 and then, as she awaited the arrival of paramedics to confirm what she already knew, called my apartment. She said only, “Daddy’s gone,” and I too knew, as I pulled on a pair of sweatpants and t-shirt without washing my face or combing my hair and raced up the freeway at 90 miles per hour toward the home in which I was raised.

It was after the funeral, when the “thank you” cards had all been mailed, the headstone ordered, and the dishes all returned to their friends and family who rushed over with pots, pans, and plates overflowing with food, that I broached the topic of selling the house. I was sure that Mom would want to move into a condominium or smaller home that wasn’t filled with memories of her husband of nearly 30 years. His clothes were still hanging in their closet. The door to his study had remained closed for several weeks, neither of us able to enter the room my mother had lovingly decorated for him in shades of navy blue, wine, and brown where he spent so much time reading, watching sports events that held no interest for my mother, and hosting an occasional poker game with his long-time male friends. At the urging of my then-boyfriend, who had lost his own father several years earlier, I waited a few weeks before gently offering to help my mother clean out the closet, sort through his belongings, and make deliveries to her favorite charity.

I remember the conversation vividly. I was standing in the kitchen — on the very spot where my father had drawn his last breath. As my mother sat at the kitchen table sipping a cup of coffee, I reminded her that I had some vacation time accrued and wouldn’t mind spending part of it assisting her.

“Oh, honey, you are so sweet to offer,” she said, “but I’ve been taking care of things little by little. In fact, I’m almost finished with all that. In fact, I have some things I’ve wanted to show you, but I’ve just been waiting for the right moment. Come on.”

Click to continue reading »

You're invited to subscribe to Mixed Metaphor.net's RSS feed. Hope you enjoyed your visit and will stop by again!

Technorati Tags: Father's Day, Fiction, Fourth of July, Independence Day, Writer's Island

• View 2 Comments...

This week’s Writer’s Island prompt: Curiosity

A Thousand Words: Prompt Number Two

“Come on in and make yourself comfortable,” he said warmly, gesturing toward the west side of the large, sunny room where a couch and two chairs separated by a small table were arranged casually in a semi-circle. “Sit wherever you’d like,” he continued as he picked up a manila folder from the desk on the far wall and sat down in the large, overstuffed chair in the middle of the room facing the other furniture.

“Thank you,” she said softly, selecting the wicker chair with the seat cushion, as he made a mental note of her choice. She had picked the most uncomfortable seat in the room. The one that would require her to sit virtually upright during their entire time together since it offered the least lumbar support and made squeaky, squishy noises when its occupant squirmed in a vain attempt to find a more suitable position. However, it was deliberately placed most directly across from and in line with his chair. By the time she returned next week, the chairs would be rearranged to facilitate his observation of whether she will pick the same chair or the chair in the same position relative to his.

“You’ve been across the street a good while,” he said. “I saw you there when I arrived for my first appointment this morning. That was more than two hours ago.” He studied her expression.

“I arrived early,” she responded, squirming in the chair in a futile effort to get comfortable.

“Did you forget what time the appointment was?” he probed.

“No,” she said declaratively, without expounding.

“Well, why don’t you tell me a little bit about yourself and what brings you in today.” He smiled encouragingly as their eyes met.

Without removing the large sunglasses that shielded her deep-set blue eyes, she began. “Well, I just wanted someone to talk to . . . about things. I found your name in the Yellow Pages and, since your office is not far from my house, I decided to come meet you and give this a try.”

“What kinds of things would you like to talk about?” he inquired, opening the manila file folder and removing a single sheet of lined white paper. From the table to the right of his chair, he picked up a ballpoint pen and held it in the fingers of his right hand, poised to begin jotting down notes as she spoke.

“There have been a lot of changes in my life lately,” she started hesitantly. “I just want to figure out where I’m going from here.”

“All right,” he replied. “Why don’t you tell me about what has changed.”

“My mother died,” she stated matter-of-factly. “I was living with her, so now I’m living alone in her house. She left it to me.”

“I’m sorry for your loss. How long ago did she pass?” He continued holding the pen, but did not begin writing.

“Six months ago. I moved back in with her so that I could take care of her. My brother is married and has a couple of kids. He and his wife both work, so since I am single, I decided that I should be the one to move in and see her through to the end.” She spoke with little emotion. “She had cancer. Colon cancer. We thought she was cured . . . it had been more than ten years. But one day she found a lump in her neck, so she went to the doctor. Turned out the cancer had come back and spread to her bones. They tried chemotherapy again, but it didn’t work.”

“How long was she ill? After the recurrence, that is,” he clarified.

“It was almost a year,” she continued, “from the time she was diagnosed until she died. I stayed with her the whole time. I didn’t want her to die in a hospital or hospice. I quit my job — I hated it, anyway — and moved into her house. I didn’t know that she planned to leave the house to me, but she did so now I need to figure out if I want to stay there or sell it and move somewhere else.”

“Have you ever been married?” he inquired.

“Yes, I was.” She stopped speaking and began fumbling with the iPod that she had continued to grasp with her left hand since entering the office. “But I got divorced about three years ago. I don’t have any kids. Can I smoke in here?”

“No, I’m sorry, but I do not allow patients to smoke in my office,” he said gently, but firmly. He stopped and made a few notes on the blank piece of paper.

When he was finished, he looked directly at her and asked pointedly, “I’m curious . . . why did you arrive so early today and spend a couple of hours standing across the street from my office?”

At least, she removed her sunglasses and laid them in her lap next to the iPod. “Well, I got off work and didn’t feel like going home first. I work nights in the emergency room at the hospital down the street,” she explained as she pointed to the identification badge and electronic key card dangling from a lanyard around her neck, “and I got off work a little after 7:00 a.m. I didn’t have time to go home and sleep, plus . . . ” she hesitated for a moment, “I was afraid that if I went home, I wouldn’t come back.” She picked the sunglasses up from her lap and perched them atop her head as she considered his expression. “I had to satisfy my curiosity. I wanted to see what kind of people were coming in and out of here, see if I could catch a glimpse of you . . . you know . . . check things out a bit before deciding.” She reached into the pocket of her jeans and retrieved a pack of gum. “Want a piece?” she said holding the package out to him.

“No thank you,” he replied, holding up his left palm and waving it gently to signify his declination of her offer. “I’m fine.”

He closed the manila file folder and placed it, along with the pen, back on the table next to him. Then he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and looked into her eyes. “So?”

“So what?” she said with feigned casualness, pretending not to understand the import of his question.

Content to play along, he continued, “So are we going to do some work together here in this office? Did I pass inspection? Are you ready to get real and tell me what’s going on in your life that led you to make this appointment with me? I just want to know if we’re done doing this little dance and ready to rock and roll. I’m not everybody’s cup of tea and that’s cool. If you don’t think we can work together, you can go. I won’t even bill you. We’ll just consider this little ‘look-see’ a freebie . . . not the right fit, ‘have a nice life.’ It’s up to you.”

She squinted slightly as she studied his square-set jaw, tousled dark brown hair with a few random-appearing streaks of gray, and soft green eyes. “You have an accent. Where are you from?” she asked.

“Scotland, originally. But I’ve been a citizen of this country for nearly twenty years now,” he explained. “You’ll find that my accent becomes much more pronounced after I’ve been home for a visit. But after a few weeks, it fades away again. And that is the last personal question I will answer. It is not appropriate, within the context of the psychotherapist-patient relationship, for me to discuss details about my life with you.” His brogue was still readily discernible, especially with particular combinations of letters such as “er.” When he said “personal,” it sounded more like “parsonal.” She found herself charmed by his manner of speech.

“So what do you think? Wanna stick around and talk for awhile?”

“First, I have just one more question,” she announced firmly. “Not about your personal life, though.”

“All right then,” he leaned back, placing his arms on those of the chair. “Shoot.”

“Can I move into that other chair? This is the most uncomfortable contraption I have ever tried to sit it. Here’s some advice: You should get rid of it. It’s horrid. I don’t know how anybody could talk about anything important while sitting in that thing.” Without waiting for his response, she picked up her iPod and moved to the upholstered chair opposite the table, sinking into it comfortably and crossing her legs. “Ah . . . better. Much better.”

“All right,” he smiled. “If you’re ready to get started, tell me more about what brings you here today.”

As she began speaking, he retrieved the file folder and pen from the table, removed the lined white sheet of paper, and started jotting a few notes.

Technorati Tags: A Thousand Words, Fiction, Writer's Island

• Be the first to comment...

Welcome to the Carnival of Family Life: Celebrate America Edition! This week, Americans observe the Fourth of July with their families. Picnics, potlucks, camp-outs, swim parties, boating adventures . . . and best of all, fireworks will remind us how lucky and blessed we are here in the “land of the free and the home of the brave!” And this week’s collection of excellent posts about family life reminds us to be thankful for our families and enjoy spending the upcoming long weekend with them.

Education

From Heather Johnson: A Question of Censorship at Fahrenheit 451: Freedom to Read.

Family Cooking & Recipes

From Mathilde Rufenacht: Fruit pie, whipped cream, and why the calories are not always where you think at Shop’NCook Blog. She explains what happened when her well-intentioned husband put whipped cream on her cake at a parents’ barbecue party.

Family Crafts and Activities

From Sweettooth: 5 Gift Ideas at 5 Price Ranges, For Her at Shop Little Gifts.

From Hannah: Apron Strings at The Purloined Letter.

From Mother Hen: Laundry Freedom at Mother Hen.

From Busy Bee Kim: Give Your Summer a Theme! at Busy Bee Lifestyle.

From Amy Vernon: Family trips to the grocery store at Ice Cream is Not for Breakfast.

Family Fiction

From Riley: A review of More Than It Hurts You by Darin Strauss at All Rileyed Up.

Family Finance

From Debt Freedom Fighter: Take Financial Control Of Your Life In 5 Easy Steps at Discover Debt Freedom!

From Money Answer Guy: Do women really have different financial needs than men? at The Money Answer Guy.

From Matthew Paulson: Married Women Need Credit in Their Own Name to Protect Their Credit Score at American Consumer News.

From Money Answer Guy: Should You Pay for Your Children’s College? at The Money Answer Guy.

From Jennifer Johnson: Stay At Home Moms at MommyABCs.com.

Family Health and Wellness

From Shaheen Lakhan: How Do We Feed Our Children? at GNIF Brain Blogger. She asked, “How in the world do we find out what to feed our children? What’s the most important factor? Is there a most important factor?”

From BeThisWay: Prevent Drowning - Water Safety Tips for Parents at Are You Going To Be This Way The Rest of The Time I Know You?

From HowToMe: How to “Line Dry” Discretely at HowToMe. Tired of having your “hang to dry” items draped over the shower head or curtain rod to drip dry? If so, you need to read this!

From Hueina Su: Nirvana is Only a Thought Away at Intensive Care for the Nurturer’s Soul.

Family Humor

From Pearl Wisdom: Meet the HippieBaby at Pearls of Wisdom.

From Jane: A Quick Lesson in Fursing at Kidzarama. “I have never been a big swearer, but when Wren came along seven and a half years ago, it was like going back to primary school. That’s elementary school for the US audience. I had to learn to furse all over again.”

From SeaBird: Cloth diapers and me: not disposable at To TwinFinity and Beyond!

From Michael Ritchason: The cable guy at The view from up here.

From Mama Meji: Va-ve-vi-vo-voom at Mak!Mej!

From Laura Scarborough: white trash wedding at Adventures in Juggling. Laura observes, “Sometimes the girl just can’t get away from the single-wide trailer park no matter how hard she tries.”

From Jennifer: It’s all in the glasses at Diary of 1.

From Gabriel Almada: Silly faces at Live from Waterloo.

Family Travel

From Matthew Paulson: Tips for Low-Stress Camping with Kids at American Consumer News.

From Matthew Paulson: How to Plan for Unexpected Travel Expenses at The Travel Advocate.

From GP: 10 Commandments of Conscious Travel at Innside Montana-Your Home at the Range.

Parenting Tips and Advice

From cate3: I am surviving as Mr. Mom at Why Homeschool.

From Phylameana: Necessities for the New Grandmother at Spiral Visions. She explains that “when I became a first time grandmother this month, my sister welcomed me into grand-parenthood with a box of goodies to help me adjust into this very important life role.”

From Kevin Heath: Top 10 Tips for Parenting a Contrary Kid at More4kids.

From John: The Sippy Cup Saga at The Modern Parent: baby product reviews, parenting advice, and tips, a discussion about teaching your baby to drink from a cup rather than a bottle.

From John: First Time Parent at Harrowed Parent.

From Chief Family Officer: Inexpensive Birthday “Cards” at Chief Family Officer.

No matter how you spend the holiday, enjoy yourself, enjoy your family, and stay safe!

Happy Fourth of July!

Next week, the Carnival of Family Life will be hosted at All Rileyed Up! You can submit your family-related post any time between now and Saturday, July 5, 2008, at midnight (Pacific time). Make sure that you review the guidelines! Interested in hosting a future edition? Review the schedule and send a message indicating the date in which you are interested!

Technorati Tags: Blog Carnival, Carnival of Family Life

• View 4 Comments...

A Thousand Words: Prompt Number One

As he stepped up to the podium, he felt slightly dizzy, but his determination buoyed him. He looked out into the auditorium, thankful that the lights focused upon him and the remainder of the stage area prohibited him, at least for the most part, from clearly observing the faces of the young men and women gathered there. He was only able to recognize those seated in the front-most four or five rows. When he caught a glimpse of his son’s best friend, seated in the middle of the third row surrounded by the rest of his boy’s buddies, he quickly closed his eyes and began breathing deeply. One hand on either side of the podium to steady himself, he cleared his throat, opened his eyes, and began speaking into the microphone.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice slightly shaky. “I never, ever thought I would find myself standing here addressing you on an occasion like this. It simply never entered my mind. But when Officer Vasquez came to my house to invite me, I immediately accepted the invitation.”

“Why?” he continued. “Because I don’t want any other parent to experience what I have. I wouldn’t wish what has happened to my family on anyone else and if I can spare one family from suffering the way my family has, . . . ” His voice cracked and broke off. He took a couple more deep breaths, just as the psychologist with whom he had met earlier that morning, had instructed. The auditorium was eerily silent as the normally rambunctious audience patiently waited for him to continue speaking.

Click to continue reading »

Technorati Tags: A Thousand Words, Fiction

• View 4 Comments...

The May 29, 2008, Sunday Scribblings prompt: Curve ball

“Leaving?” she responded breathlessly to the curve ball fate had just pitched directly to her. “No, I’m not leaving. I’ll be back in a few moments.”

“Oh, good!” he said genially. “I was hoping we could catch up a bit.”

She studied his eyes, remembering all the times that, as a young woman, she had looked expectantly — hopefully — into them. He looked exactly the same save for the small but distinct lines at the corners of his eyes that had grown more pronounced when he smiled and a few gray highlights in his hair. He was as impossibly attractive as ever.

But on this night, the lovesick young woman lacking confidence that she used to be was not in attendance at the reunion. Rather, she thought to herself, “I must be unrecognizable to him,” as she threw her shoulders back and spoke in a calm but measured tone, determined to take full advantage of what she knew instinctively was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

“Catch up,” she repeated thoughtfully. “Yes, I think we should ‘catch up.’ I think that would be lovely. In fact, I was hoping you would be here, because I have some questions for you and I would really like to ‘catch up’ by getting a few answers. After all, it’s been a few years, hasn’t it?”

“Yes, it sure has,” he said, puzzled by her demeanor.

Click to continue reading »

Technorati Tags: Fiction, Sunday Scribblings

• View 3 Comments...

This week’s Writer’s Island prompt: The Return

“I am totally impressed that you became a doctor,” she told her former biology classmate, Georgia, “especially after having me as a lab partner! Quite an accomplishment!” she laughed.

“Actually, you inspired me,” Georgia replied.

“I did?” she asked incredulously. “How in the world did I manage that? When it came to anything science-related, I was a pitiful student.”

“You inspired me to pick better lab partners in my college courses!” Georgia teased.

“Nice,” she replied sarcastically. “Really nice. Glad to be of service.” The women continued laughing as they reminisced for a few more minutes about their teachers and classmates.

“So how goes it over here?” asked her best friend, as she joined them. “What am I missing?”

“Georgia was explaining that she owes her career as a world-renowned pediatrician to me,” she said with mock pride. “I was such a horrid lab partner that I inspired her to hang with a better class of scientists. And the rest, as they say, is history!”

“You know, I can believe that.” With her hand on her hip, her friend considered Georgia’s claim with the seriousness she ordinarily devoted to the assessment of a group of potential jurors. “I have no trouble believing that at all. You sucked at science.”

“Judgment for Georgia,” she laughed as she raised her wine glass to toast the doctor and was joined by the other two women.

“Well, I’m going to take my victory and mingle a bit,” Georgia said as she hugged them both. “It was great seeing you guys.”

“So?” her best friend queried.

“So what?” she teased.

Click to continue reading »

Technorati Tags: Fiction, Writer's Island

• View 6 Comments...

This week’s Sunday Scribblings prompt: Telephone

The telephone began ringing just as she closed the door to her hotel room and started down the hallway toward the elevator. She never even considered not turning back to answer, confident that the call was either from her son or Dennis.

“Hey, Mom,” her son said cheerily before she even had a chance to say “hello.”

“Hey yourself! How are you guys?” she inquired. “Everything o.k.?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “I just called to say ‘hi’ and make sure you were having fun.”

“So far, so good,” she responded, touched by the fact that her nine-year-old son clearly missed her but was trying not to let on. “What’s your dad up to?”

“He’s out in the backyard,” her son explained. “He’s doing something with the pool chemicals before the twins and their dad get here. We’re all going to swim this afternoon. Just the guys. Amy said that if you get a ‘girls’ weekend’ away, she gets part of a weekend to herself. Dad is going to bar-b-que hamburgers for dinner. You know what else?”

“What?” she asked amusedly.

Click to continue reading »

Technorati Tags: Fiction, Sunday Scribblings

• View 6 Comments...

This week’s Writer’s Island prompt: Faithful

“And you got married just like that?” Amy said incredulously.

“Just like that!” she laughed. “It was an amazing day. We only had about twenty-five guests and got married, barefooted, on the beach at sundown.”

“When did you tell your families that you were pregnant?” Amy pressed.

“During the reception! Dennis proposed a toast to me and our baby.” She smiled at the memory of the way the guests gasped and the momentary silence that followed. “Within a few seconds, after everyone had a chance to absorb the announcement, they were happy and supportive. Both of our mothers burst into tears, of course.” As she spoke, her eyes never left the playground where her son was climbing up the stairs to the slide, with Amy’s twin boys right behind him. “Be careful, boys!” she called to them. “Don’t crowd each other.”

“I was so happy when the realtor told us that you had purchased the house next door. I was hoping that a nice couple with a young child would buy it so the boys would have a playmate — and I might make a friend,” Amy said genuinely. “As much as I love being a stay-at-home mom, it does get a little bit lonely sometimes.”

“I know what you mean. That’s why we wanted to buy a house and get settled into a nice community,” she responded. “When Dennis told me that our new next-door neighbors had twin boys, I knew we had decided on the right house for us!”

Click to continue reading »

Technorati Tags: Fiction, Writer's Island

• View 4 Comments...

This week’s Writer’s Island prompt: Flight

The florist delivered the flowers late Saturday afternoon. A beautiful bouquet of her favorites — delicate pink roses. The card said simply, “You will be picked up at noon on Sunday. Be ready. Love, D.”

She opened the door and was greeted by a uniformed driver. “I don’t think you have the right apartment,” she said apologetically.

“Oh, I’m sure that I do,” the driver replied respectfully. “I’m here to pick you up and take you to brunch. Mr. Dennis sent me. Are you ready?”

Speechless, she hurriedly grabbed her bag and locked the apartment door before following the driver to the parking lot where a black limousine awaited them. She stopped and stared at the car and then the driver.

“Madam, if you please,” the driver said, gesturing toward the vehicle as he walked toward it and opened the door for her.

Without saying a word, she got into the car. Before closing the door, the driver explained, “There is sparkling apple cider on ice. Would you like me to pour you a glass before we depart?”

“No, thank you,” she smiled. The driver gave her a knowing smile and playful wink before closing her door and then taking his seat behind the wheel.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Ah, Mr. Dennis would like that to be a surprise. But I can tell you that we will be there within the hour,” the driver explained as he pulled out of the parking lot.

She had never ridden in a limousine before, so she leaned her head back on the seat and closed her eyes, wondering what Dennis had in store for her . . . for them.

Click to continue reading »

Technorati Tags: Fiction, Writer's Island

• View 10 Comments...

This week’s Sunday Scribblings prompt: Fearless

She knew what she had to do — and that she needed to do it now. Procrastinating would only make the task ahead more difficult — for both of them.

Her circumstances — and the future of her unborn child — required that she be fearless now. Decisive. Determined. Protective.

As she showered and dressed in anticipation of Dennis’ visit, she vacillated between being extremely angry with herself for not being more responsible — the thought of using birth control had never even entered her mind on that fateful New Year’s Eve — and worry about what her future held. She knew that her discussion with Dennis this evening would only be the first of many conversations she would be having in the coming weeks and months with the people she loved. She wondered how she would tell her parents, knowing that they would be disappointed, but fiercely protective. Although she had not had time to fully evaluate her financial circumstances, she presumed that she would need to move back into her parents’ home and secure employment back in her home town, dependent upon her parents to assist with child care and other responsibilities.

The days ahead would be difficult, but she was resolved. She was going to have his child and raise it on her own without any assistance from him. If her plan succeeded, he would never know.

Click to continue reading »

Technorati Tags: Fiction, Sunday Scribblings

• View 5 Comments...