Button Pusher's 55

“This one is like a tiny pea under a mattress.
This one is will be like a poke in the chest.
This one will feel like a driver cutting you off in traffic.
And this is my favorite.
I call it having last word.”

Teenagers are the masters at knowing how to push your buttons.
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This is a Flash Fiction Friday 55.
If you want to know what the hell that means visit g-man.
The challenge is on.
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Or if you want yet another challenge write a Sunday 160.
Like a text message, the Sunday 160 only uses 160 characters (including spaces)
Keep on schedule - post Sunday
Let me know you have posted via a comment on my site
Visit at least one other Sunday 160

Sunday 160

Darkness enveloped him and swallowed him whole.
He was overcome by the stench life brought.
How could he allow himself to be fooled
by the old Dutch oven trick?
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If you wish to take the challenge, here is a quick look at the rules.

For the original Sunday 160 post click here.

The Sunday 160 only uses 160 characters (including spaces).
Keep on schedule - post Sunday.
Let me know you have posted via a comment on my site.
Visit at least one other Sunday 160.
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Life in 55

Old clothes.
Photo albums.
A collection of mirrors
that once hung on a wall.
Boxes of books:
Biographies;
Fiction;
Non-fiction;
Cookbooks;
Self help;
and journals.
We carefully explored each,
seeking contact
or some small message from beyond.
She does not disappoint.
Notes in margins.
Notes on scraps paper.
One read:
“Life is full of surprises.”
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This is a Flash Fiction Friday 55.
If you want to know what the hell that means visit g-man.
The challenge is on.
______________

Or if you want yet another challenge write a Sunday 160.
Like a text message, the Sunday 160 only uses 160 characters (including spaces)
Keep on schedule - post Sunday
Let me know you have posted via a comment on my site
Visit at least one other Sunday 160

Pillars

The pillar stood supporting weight many times its own.

Straining to hold together

all that appeared to be

crumbling around it.

Rain falling like tears

stained the broad support

but didn't erode its stability.

The more weight it endured

the more it attracted.

Yearning to show it too

needed support,

all it could allow

was cold and unfeeling strength.

The King is NOT dead - Sunday 160

We huddled together
in the confined space.
The warmth of each others’ body
staving off the cold.
It had been a long time
since we had slept
in a queen size bed.

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If you wish to take the challenge, here is a quick look at the rules.

For the original Sunday 160 post click here.

The Sunday 160 only uses 160 characters (including spaces).
Keep on schedule - post Sunday.
Let me know you have posted via a comment on my site.
Visit at least one other Sunday 160.
_______________________________

55 In Gratitude

The cursor blinked at him as he stared at the blank screen.
Dit.
Dit.
Dit.
“How do I thank them all?” he pondered.
He had never experienced such an out pouring
of kindness, caring, love, prayers and warmth.
Dit.
Dit.
Dit.
“Something creative and funny?"
"Something straight forward and sincere?”
Why not just –

“Thank You.”
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This is a Flash Fiction Friday 55.

If you want to know what the hell that means visit g-man.
The challenge is on.
______________

Or if you want yet another challenge write a Sunday 160.
Like a text message, the Sunday 160 only uses 160 characters (including spaces)
Keep on schedule - post Sunday
Let me know you have posted via a comment on my site
Visit at least one other Sunday 160

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This 55 is written for all of you who took the time to visit my blog of Monday titled "Parade of Love". It was written in honor of my mother who passed away early that morning. My family and I truly thank each and every one of you for your kind thoughts and prayers. May you all be blessed.

Parade of Love

A parade of love marched by the sole reclining spectator,
stopping to play music of love and memories.
Only soft groans allowed the parade to know
how appreciated was each and every member
of the march of adoration.
All wanted her breathing in the life they had to give.
All wanted her to rise up and march in the parade
To lead them as she had done for her entire life.
To play with them.
To laugh at their occasional off key performances.
To make palpable the love always given so freely.
To smile and cry with them.
To make each and every one of them feel special and unique.
This was her talent.
This was the ingredient the parade sought to find to fill the void
left by its leader of levity and mirth and love.
The parade wanted what it could no longer have.
Knowing it needed to move on.
Knowing it needed to allow the reclining figure peace.
Knowing it needed to let go.
As the last marcher passed to touch,
to talk,
to say good bye,
the last note was played.

Peggy Lou Fix
August 10, 1930 - March 15, 2010

We love you, Mom.

Scratch this 160

It was the kind of itch you get

when something crawls on your arm.

It’s that itch.

The one that won’t go away

no matter how hard you scratch.

Feeling itchy yet?

__________________________
If you wish to take the challenge, here is a quick look at the rules.

For the original Sunday 160 post click here.

The Sunday 160 only uses 160 characters (including spaces)
Keep on schedule - post Sunday
Let me know you have posted via a comment on my site
Visit at least one other Sunday 160 (if they exist)
_______________________________

Fighting 55

The strength of loyalty

and the endurance of

snow capped mountains

kept them moving forward.

Nothing could hold them back

as they struggled

to achieve the impossible.

Pushing with a heart

forged of molten metal

the immovable object

become as pliable as taffy.

Slowly they emerged.

Fans no brick wall would ever be holding back.

You can find this sculture at Oregon State University's Reser Stadium.

A Tribute to the fans of Beaver Nation

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This is a Flash Fiction Friday 55.

If you want to know what the hell that means visit g-man.
The challenge is on.
______________

Or if you want yet another challenge write a Sunday 160.
Like a text message, the Sunday 160 only uses 160 characters (including spaces)
Keep on schedule - post Sunday
Let me know you have posted via a comment on my site
Visit at least one other Sunday 160 (if they exist)

Connections

Last night I was dreaming that I was paying a visit to my mother and step father. They had moved into a new residence and invited me to come see it. This was most likely "dreams imitating life", since this did happen in January, but as dreams go it wasn't their new place it was entirely different.

In my dream I walked down a long narrow flight of stairs that was akin to a circular staircase but walled in. It wasn't something my mother could navigate in her current state. When I reached their main room it was a large, carpeted open space with little or no furniture and my mother was laying on the floor slightly propped up. The room was completely glassed walled and looked out onto a golf course. This made my step dad giddy with excitement. He loves his golf.

I leaned down to ask my mother how she felt about their new place and she smiled at me and said "It was fine." I know her and I knew she was just going along with what would make her husband happy but as she lay there on the floor, I knew things weren't "fine".

It was at that exact moment in REAL LIFE, 4:08 AM, that my cell phone rang with the ring that told me it was coming from my mother's home. My thoughts went to the worst but my gut wasn't getting that feeling that it was "the call". My step dad was on the other end of line to tell me that my mother had fallen again (she fell last Saturday as well) and he couldn't lift her. I told him we were on our way.

When we got to their home, my mother was on the floor propped up as in my dream and was telling me she was "fine". Mrs. MM and I lifted her to safety, assessed that she would be alright and breathed a sign of relief.

My mother and I have always had a special connection. I have always known when it was her on the other end of a call even before I would pick up. We would jokingly blame her Gypsy blood on the phenomenon. Her mother's maiden name was Zinga. A woman who was born on Halloween and died on Easter. But those are just fun facts. I know this special connection will soon be broken forever and it saddens me. So for now, I just have to appreciate it day to day and stay open to the fact that connections of the spiritual kind are real and should be cherished.

Are you connected?