Early childhood memories are so rare. I remember a few things. One is the frustration my mother felt trying to run a brush through my curly hair while I screeched loudly in protest. Funny how I remember, not my pain, but her emotion.
Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “brush.”
First 50 Words - Prompts for Writing Practice 
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The brush was filled with her dog’s undercoat. It had been a while since she had groomed her pet, but she saw that it needed to be done; besides, it was an activity enjoyed by her pet. He probably was experiencing the same sensation she did when her hairdresser combed her own hair. It was relaxing and pleasurable.
She was sitting in the shady part of the yard where it was breezy and cool. Her dog lifting his head while his nostrils flared as he sniffed the whiffs of fresh air that swayed the surrounding trees. It was a glorious spring day, so she decided to take advantage of it.
Getting up, she said, “Wanna go for a walk?” The reaction of her pet let her know it was a “yes.”
Great!
My toothbrush has frayed
and has started
to curl around
the edges
My hairbrush landed
in the dustbin yesterday
and was
almost carted away
I burnt the wooden handle
of my carpet brush
while prodding
the embers of a
dying fire
last winter.
Then someone
(someone naughty , I guess)
singed the plastic bristles
of my clothes brush
to a charred sticky
smelly crisp
Phew , I have
brushes
with danger
everyday.
But I mostly
brush the fear
aside
The sage brush
needs trimming
and my paint brushes
are hard and caked
stiff from my daughter’s
brush with art.
I have kept the brush so long that my wife makes fun of it. I have long since lost all my hair but still I run the brush across my scalp each day and remember my grandmother brushing it when I was young. I can’t have her near and despite it having no purpose the brush is my link to the woman who made me what I am today.
I saw you first, you were alone admiring an anonymous Gothic painting. The gallery was hosting a local wine vineyard’s tenth or twentieth anniversary; the details are fuzzy now.
I swirled a mostly empty glass of red wine and meandered in your direction, blankly gazing at the art on the wall; being drawn closer by your effortless gravity.
A companion, a man you knew called out to you. Oh, to be the one that dazzling smile was meant for, but alas as you brushed past me, the spot on your ring finger was occupied by a gem whose beauty was surpassed only by yours.
This was beautifully written. I liked the setting and the imagery. Great beginning for a possible short story.
Hi Claire, thank you so much for the compliment!