Short Fiction

Blue Blanket

several yarn balls
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Blue Blanket
Red-rimmed eyes, tear-streaked cheeks, cotton mouthed, she sat on her sofa, in her spot, as she snapped open the plastic container. A familiar fragrance teased her nostrils as she gasped and then allowed the scent to overtake her senses. Staring at the blanket through blurred vision, it was soft country blue colored, with fringed edges. Knowing this blanket was her sister’s favorite, she needed to keep this treasure.

Cozying in to the familiar soft comfort of her spot on the sofa, she gathered her yarn and hook. Excitement tickled her soul as she pondered the joy her sister would feel when she saw and touched her new blanket. While it was not her taste, her sister loved blues and mauves. Selecting the soft toned, country blue was easy. This would be a gift for her sister’s 21st birthday and she wanted to give something to her sister to treasure all of her life. As was her habit, she pondered positive thoughts as she hooked the yarn. Believing that keeping good thoughts would only make for many good things, she was certain that this blanket would bring much comfort and joy.

Holding the well-loved blanket to her face, breathing in the scent, closing her eyes, memories flooded her. Feeling the softness as she grazed the blanket with her fingertips, she came across a raised, rough patch. Looking closely, there was a stain, much in the shade of red, as in nail polish. This would have been from her niece. She loved the blanket and was likely wrapped in it while she painted her nails.

Working each row, creating the design, allowing for both durability and beauty, she counted and watched as the blanket unfolded into a work of art. Her old cat would keep her lap extra warm as he crawled underneath the workings. He was old and not so likely to bat the yarn as he did in his younger years. A bit of him would go along with the blanket, as it would be very difficult to pick out his golden fur.

Even after all these years, there were gold flecks in the blanket. Oh Kitty, she thought, you now can rest with my sister and her other pet children. Tell her to keep a warm spot for me, one day. She stroked the gold and closed her eyes, remembering the comfort he brought to her in all of his days. Dozing to a nappy sleep, she woke to nothing more or less than the changes of life. And peace. Peace in knowing that those before have no more pain and peace in knowing that those left behind can best bring comfort to each other. It’s the circle.

poetry

I Heard it Again

close up photography of red rose
Photo by Plush Design Studio on Pexels.com

I Heard it Again

I heard it again
that song
it reminded me
once again
of the two of you
George Morgan
Room Full of Roses

The story is as clear as today
you told us many times
how when you were in love
and broke each other’s heart
and then it happened

Daddy, you sent the roses
you sent the note
A roomful of roses
would never be enough
to show my love for you

Long story short
you were married in Reno
and this become
your favorite song

I am glad you had it
and each other

…..
So, there you have it! Day 29 of National Poetry Month

Thanks to Robert Lee Brewer’s Poetic Asides Prompt:

“For today’s prompt, take the phrase “(blank) Again,” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then write your poem. Possible titles include: “Here We Go Again,” “On the Road Again,” “Stumped on What to Write Again,” and “Doing the Wrong Thing Again.”

 

poetry

New York

buildings surrounded by trees
Photo by Reynaldo #brigworkz Brigantty on Pexels.com

New York

A college student
Midwestern planted
landed in New York
eyes wide opened

Granted a chance
to practicum in the city
of cities
you might say

It was post my mother’s passing
I needed the time
to sort my emotions
and stay focused on studies

Massive empire of buildings
standing tall
sweating from the heat
mixed with pollution

Trekking to the subway
early morning trot
acrid scents of night
lingering in the bowels

Subway to bus
dropping by Little Neck
for my stint
with the agency

Helping little babies
ones who were marked
sadly, but truly
determined to survive

Lives of sweet innocence
have to make it
for sure
and find loving homes

Once back to my temporary abode
clearing my olfactory portals
supping on meager findings
counting myself fortunate

Life has a funny way
of taking you to places
you never thought you
would go

One Saturday
I went to the World Trade Center
all was well
back then

Looking back
how fortunate I was
to have that experience
over seeing Lady Liberty

Many a time
I would go to the Metropolitan
enjoying the vastness
of artists who’ve long gone

Crying tears at Monet
astounded at the colors
the shapes
the sizes

And to ride to the mountains
say I have been to Woodstock
gather with folk musicians
and the scent of the flowers in my room

Life takes us on journeys
never forgotten
this one took me
into a life I own

…..
There you have it! Day 14 of National Poetry Month 🙂
My prompt comes from Robert Lee Brewer’s Poetic Asides “For today’s prompt, pick a state (or province, territory, etc.), make it the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. A few possibilities include New York, California, Ontario, Bavaria, and Champagne. It goes without saying, but I’ll say it anyway: Feel free to bend this in any direction you wish.”