Five Days – Day 5

Time spent in idle repose (read feet up on a sun drenched verandah) staring at the mountains and accompanied by an armful of trashy novels leads to flights of fancy and whimsical fluff.

I meant to pen a punchy romantical interlude full of moonlight and roses, beating hearts and butterflies yet my internal engine is in idle mode and has led to a vacuum of inspiration. Perhaps it’s because that first flush of romance is a thing of the past? The emotional roller coaster that is a new relationship has evolved into a comfortable partnership between two like minded people who disagree about certain things but agree about so much more.

Some might call comfortable settling for second best, I say to each his own – comfortable is my first prize!

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Five Days – Day Four

I was watching a documentary on the evil scourge that is domestic abuse…

She fell to her knees, her arms clasped over her head

He was shouting

She could feel the rage, coming in waves

She daren’t look up,

He would kick her, he always kicked her and that last broken rib had taken its own sweet time to heal.

She could hear him swigging from the bottle,

The ugly sound as the rotgut flowed down his throat to ignite the physical onslaught that would surely follow

He was bad tonight, she had seen it as soon as the door burst open and he’d come staggering in, his eyes burning with malice

He’d been laid off, again.

Three jobs this year, come and gone like the few cents she made from doing the washing for Number 24 on Nob Hill,

She closed her eyes and prayed.

Five Days – Day Three

My best friends daughter is in love for the first time and brim full of romance and all the angst that goes hand in hand with it! A little twist …

She could feel his hand on the small of her back.

It felt right in a way, like it belonged

Overhead the day was quiet, the sun warm and two silent birds riding the wind as it scampered over the valley

“Em”, he said, “don’t be afraid, I love you”

His voice was low but she felt the words seared on her heart and for a moment there was nothing else

“Em”, he squeezed her hand and she was comforted by the sensuous fingers intertwined with hers, “don’t you see, this way we can be together forever.”

She felt his gaze on her face and glanced up from the ground where a wandering ant had caught her eye as it struggled over the parched earth.

She nodded in assent, her delicate mouth curved in a soft smile

And they stepped off the edge into the void.

Five Days – Day One

I’ve a lifelong passion for military history and military graveyards (which might sound morbid I guess but its the story behind those thousands of gravestones that fascinates me). From Arlington to Gallipoli, Montecasino to Dunkirk millions of men and women and their families have been affected by the endless grind that is the machinery of war. With this is the ever present spectre of death ……………..

The sky is grey and wet

I’m sitting staring at the nothingness,

I’m searching for you

My hands are restless

I can feel the warmth of your skin but you’re not here.

The silence is so very loud,

I’m screaming your name,

Where are  you, why don’t you hear me?

They keep asking me if I’m alright

Keep bringing me a blanket,

Keep wanting me to eat.

I want to laugh, alright?

What is alright?

My soul is empty,

My head is full

A whirlpool of angry thoughts, you promised you’d come back.

And now all I have left is a handful of photographs,

You, so full of life

In a barren wasteland obliterated by war.

A white cross on a distant hill,

Come home

Please come home.

(photo courtesy of 123RF)

It’s the little things

So I was having a think this morning over a mug of tea (cue fanfare and loud comments of “oh no not again”). I hooked up with my best friend this week for a chai and a chat as she having multiple marital issues. In a nutshell, plenty of money, gorgeous offspring but a total ratbag of a husband. We were sitting on her patio overlooking her newly renovated home with everything material that your heart could desire and she turned to me and said “I’m so very unhappy”. There are various good reasons why she can’t leave his podgy backside and make a new life for herself but that’s for another session, enough material for a book and a movie series.

This whole convoluted cornucopia was the source of my early ruminations. DH and I live in a very old house, it’s a reasonable size mind you (especially for two) but it’s well worn. There’s a lot of DIY work that needs doing and the job jar remains alarmingly bulbous despite everybody’s best efforts during the odd spare 5 minutes grabbed at the weekend. On some days it irks me to the point of despair but on most days I don’t even give it a second thought. You might wonder why, given my type A personality (if I have it correct type A people are those who like everything just so, well-ordered and neat and tidy – if not type A then whatever letter goes with those characteristics, also known as pain in the behind by some.) Well you see, it’s because of those darn little things:-

–          When I get home from work and my husband greets me with a loving warm smile, every day.

–          When we’re at a function and his eyes will find mine from wherever, just to check in.

–          Because he knows that, no matter how upset or miserable I might be, a cup of tea will always cheer me up.

–          Because he respects me and my opinion and we talk, a lot (I think the talking is more a result of us having been together for a goodly while than a natural thing but whatever).

Don’t get me wrong, this is not an all out love fest and there are days when he irritates me so much that if I owned a pair of Jimmy Choos I would be sorely tempted to crack him over the head. On the whole though, when compared to a freshly laid floor, the little things win every time.

What do you do when the night is dark

Its such a calm night I’m sitting outside under the stars. The house is in darkness except for a light in the study -DH is at work on some intricate proposal. He’ll call my name shortly, wanting to talk over and debate what he’s done. My usual pen and pad has been cast aside, the yen to be part of the darkness far outweighing the need for light and the feel of the instrument in my hand. I’m going electronic to muse and schmooze ……………

“I am in my head

I am seeking quiet respite from the noise that is the world

A place of peaceful introspection

A place to think

A place to rebuild the barriers that waiver and buckle

I close my eyes

Perhaps they think I’m asleep

I’m breathing

I hear the sound, regular and even

I’m focused on the rhythm

It is the perfect antidote to my turbulent soul

Thrown out of balance by living and life

The path is crooked, jagging from one side to the other

Yet the thread that is me remains intact

I pull on it, unsure of my footing

It holds firm guiding me forward

The way is open

Time to start again.

The story in a photograph

 

The photograph is from a recent birthday break in the mountains, the story is whimsical flim flam.

 

“Gramps, where are you” she cried. Anxiety made her quicken her pace as she hurried around the corner of the house.

The old man wasn’t answering the phone and Mrs Dimble from down the street hadn’t seen him either.

It was two years since Gran had died, two years today since the sadness took over his every waking moment.

The patio was deserted, the only sign that he’d even been out of the house were his spectacles and his books.

He never went anywhere without his specs.

Her gaze turned to the mountains, strong in their silence and a constant presence.

Surely not,

he couldnt,

he wouldnt,

everybody knew how dangerous the path was – especially after the rain.