Where are you?

Every time I call my dad he asks, “Where are you?” I can answer that with a geographic response: “I’m at Starbucks.” Or I can give him a metaphysical answer, one he doesn’t want: “I’m lost in confusion and angry about my lack of money.” Now that I think about it, nobody cares where you really are.

Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “where are you?”


Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

7 thoughts on “Where are you?”

  1. I am in Costa drinking an Americano and childishly gloating over the collection of tacky garden ornaments, newly acquired from the 99p shop as retaliation against the garden fascists at my friend’s late, (nb LATE) mother’s retirement community. Apparently the rug in the conservatory is letting the side down for Britain in Bloom. Just wait till the gnomes and friends have taken up residence..

  2. Where are you? Seems like an open-ended question according to me because that can be answered in three ways. It could be from a physical point of view, from an emotional one or from a philosophical one. of course, most of us answer from a physical point of view because most of us want to know where in geographical terms we are at the moment this question is asked. In the big scheme of things, we are where we’re supposed to be at that moment in time.

  3. Somewhere between desperate and inspired. Feeling anxious but looking forward to a new start. Honestly I am irritated beyond. Listening to what amounts to a tantrum from a disgruntled baby boomer. Grumbling about experiences in his life that he refuses to take responsibility for. What a way to enjoy Monday, don’t you think?

  4. “Hi honey where are you?”
    “Oh, you know about half-way between life and death. I might add I am currently about two levels above you in my career, and about three level above you on the hotness scale. Or. did you mean what is my current physical location?”
    “Never mind, going be home on time? I was going to start making dinner.”

  5. Sitting beside you
    Yet invisible in your universerse

    Busy all around you
    Still undetectable

    Painting the town red with friends
    My cell never rings

    Laying, head in your lap
    Needing you to need me

    Filling the tub with water
    Will you see me now?

  6. The prayer hall smelt of incense , fresh flowers and sandal paste.The softly sung “Bhajans ” emanated from the sanctum-sanctorum.

    Ramakrishna was lost in reverence. Something he chose to call ecstasy.He swayed with the rhythm, his eyes closed, clapping gently to the beat of the music. He could visualise his “mother”, the Goddess Kali , and the vision , for him, was enchanting enough.

    On the cold stone floor, next to him sat the Queen, Rani Rashmoni.She was perturbed. The rains had been scanty, and the granaries were nearly empty. Soon, as the famine and drought took hold, people would arrive in hordes to her home , the “Annapurna “(one who provides the food), how could she …….?

    A stinging slap silenced everything. The bhajans came to a shocked halt. Rani cradled her burning cheek , eyes filling with tears.Ramakrishna towered over her , his eyes blazing ,
    “Where are you ?” He demanded angrily

  7. The drilling outside blends into the music then out again lifting me from my thoughts.

    “Where are you?”
    Why I’m here, at work typing away. Or am I somewhere between contentedness (still full from lunch) and anxious? Actually isn’t that how I always am? The weight shifting back and forth between these two throughout the day. Or if I close my eyes I’m back at the festival feeling the joy emitting from the many souls who have gone there for the same reason as me.

    “Where are you?” – Anywhere I want to be.

An open space for your story

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s