Calling My Bluff

 

A few months ago, a simple picture of me as a child surfaced and, it surprised me when my psyche shattered into a million broken pieces. I grieved, I gnashed, I wept…for that child, that sweet girl with bright blond hair and a silly grin. I wanted to hug that child and smooth her hair. I’d kind of pushed out all the recollections of that child.

Quote I saw floating around this week. Ah, yes…that.

As I’ve mentioned, even recently, if there was ever a “complicated” mother-daughter relationship, ours qualifies.

And Now…

Last week

2018-10-07T11:17:09+00:00Categories: The Innocent Prince|Tags: , , , |3 Comments

Bitter Bouquet – Flash Fiction

Dried petals and stems standing in clouded water greeted him.

Never before had these rewards of his affection appeared less than perfectly tended.

She provided tending. Provided status, security. She cultivated his reputation and ambition.

In the beginning, he signified his passion with red roses. Then the bouquets arrived bigger, more elaborate, and overflowed with color, camouflaging the guilt. Each blossom signified devotion, but not fidelity. Well-tended consolation prizes.

Until she realized that a living rose bush, even with all its thorns, better reciprocated the life and beauty she craved, more than any short-lived bouquet

Who will be Moved to Stop the Cruel Child Separation Policy?

Fair warning and disclaimer: these opinions are, in fact, my own.

Move.

Families across the globe move because they are forced to flee. Many more remain in hiding, are tortured, and die a long, slow, and painful death of body and spirit.

Homes are ripped away due to war. Discrimination. Segregation. Oppression.

Asylum, a word of hope.

A process of desperation.

Shall I ever have to plead for Asylum? I don’t know. Policies, as they stand currently, mean my family is not welcome to relocate in most English-speaking countries. We are born Americans. However, if we want to emigrate, or if circumstances

Ten Lessons from the FTSF Blogging Community

Sundays are my most guarded day. It’s the morning that I get to write. Then, throughout the day I do the prep and caring duties of laundry and cooking and bills and other what-nots necessary to be ready for the coming week. Also, Sundays I take time to read other blogs.

Several Sundays ago, while reading the variety of words that my friends at the Finish the Sentence Friday blog hop gang created, I thought, I learn so much from this scattered group of writers. So, I popped an email to the fearless co-leader, Kristi and said, let’s talk