Hope

Thanks to the influence of El Niño, New Mexico has had good snow this winter. Climate change weirdness has deprived Colorado of said snow, so our actual spring runoff is supposed to be about average when you combine the two. But the daffodils in my New Mexico yard are excited about the moisture and poke through the snow with great hope in their fibrous little hearts. Spring is coming!

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Microfiction Monday #17

Are you nuts? What do you mean, you won’t use a phone unless you can put it in your pocket? Can you imagine how long the cord would be?

Please leave a comment of 140 characters or less about the photo. For the complete story on Microfiction Monday, and to find other participants, see Stony River.

Laundromat

I hate the laundromat. I hate laundry. I hate juggling boxes of soap and dryer sheets while carrying heavy sacks. Still, it has to be done. I lugged two big bags of dirty clothes into the laundromat and started 8 machines going. With the machinery chugging along, I planted myself in an uncomfortable green plastic chair near the window.

Two chairs down, a man was muttering to himself. He was handsome and well dressed–he didn’t have that crazy and homeless look that sometimes characterizes the people in this part of town who mutter to themselves. Then I realized .  . .

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In winter

In winter the view expands. Leaves that hid the view all summer are gone. Left behind are tangled branches, some holding messy birds’ nests, through which you can see the mountains.

In winter’s low light, the mountains are defined by shadows. When it snows, you can pick out individual trees at the higher elevations as they stand out against the snow and shadow. Clouds cling to the mountain tops—ephemeral decorations.

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Cowardly Lion

The New Mexico Senate passed a bill supporting “domestic partnerships” in NM yesterday. A behind-the-times step toward equality. Then they immediately buried the bill in a finance committee from which it may never emerge. The POTUS yesterday said he wanted to get rid of “don’t ask, don’t tell.” He proposed a year long study about the effect. We are surrounded by people in power who should have the heart to do something brave, but instead cringe like the cowardly lion behind a psychosis known as fear-of-the-ballot-box.

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Slipped

I’m always early. I always beat my deadlines. In eons of living, I have not slipped on a deadline. Until now.  I don’t like the feeling. It’s like a headache or a sore back. It nags.

I’m having trouble writing a chapter for a web design book. My chapter is to be 40 pages long. For someone who prides herself on being able to write about anything, anytime, I’m struggling. This chapter is making me insane. My pride has been put in its place. Hello, humility.

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Microfiction Monday #16

Eat at the Mystery Hole! You’ll love our charming vintage decor, delicious barbecue, and covered outdoor seating.

Please leave a comment with your story about this photo in 140 characters or less. To get the complete story on Microfiction Monday, visit Stony River.

Wait

There are times when waiting patiently is possible. I can wait out a traffic snarl or inch my way up a long line. When I’m waiting to start something, waiting to take action, waiting for a change that feels important—in those times the wait seems unbearable. The most unbearable wait of all is when I’m itching to do something and I must wait on the behavior of another person.

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Run

Last night the POTUS delivered the SOTU address. My daughter told me her TV didn’t get that channel—you may not know what those letters mean either. I was fascinated by the language used in the speech. Phrases like “run for the hills” made it a much less erudite discourse than we’ve heard from our national leader in the past. Will it make a difference?

Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “run.”

Don’t Move

It was as if someone stood beside the bed with a gun, snarling, “Don’t move!” at her. She’d been there for days, barely stirring. I’d tried everything I could think of to make her dress, eat, act alive. Nothing worked. She wouldn’t even drink. In desperation, . . .

Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “don’t move.”