Free

After Zelda cleared her desk and dusted the shelves she felt liberated. Old photographs and miscellaneous clutter had been piling up for years. The worst of it, pictures of dead relatives. She had felt obligated to surround herself with family while she wrote stories about them, but now the stories were stored in her computer. Zelda didn’t need the jumble of faces anymore, eyes peering down at her, watching her fingers as she typed. She’d had enough of their stuffy influence over everything she wrote, their collected stares. Now she was free to think on her own and write stories without them.

Next to Zelda’s desk the closet door had been left open. On one shelf a sizable storage box held hundreds more photographs. A lot of the pictures were Ed’s. She wouldn’t touch his, just hers. He’d have to deal with his pictures later. But she didn’t know when that would be because Ed was the clutter-bug in their marriage.

If Ed weren’t around she’d get rid of everything. Zelda hated clutter. She remembered a time when her office was free of this sentimental nonsense. A time when everything was clean and simple, her mind clear, so she could think.

In the morning Zelda’s house was swarming with police. Neighbors had observed the woman, clad only in a slip, carrying pile after pile of belongings into her front yard.

One bystander reported, “She must have been working all night.” 

Another asked, “Where’s Ed?”

In the institution Zelda’s room was stark white. A bed stood against one wall, a desk and chair against another. On the desk, one lamp, one pad of lined paper, and one pen, her only possessions. Free of clutter. She smiled.

(This story is an experiment in the flash fiction genre. I hope to be adding more stories, related to this one, in the future.)

Inspiration: It's All Around Us

Inspiration is all around us. It comes to me through my senses, seeing, hearing, feeling, tasting, and smelling, it is what moves me to pick up a pen. Inspiration sends goose-bumps up my arms or chills down my spine. It is a fleeting thing and I have to take notice before it is gone.

For example: After my mother had been dead many years, I came across her perfume in a department store. The familiar scent brought back vivid memories. “My mother was in that bottle…” I later wrote in a poem.

Another poem was inspired by an image. “Three beach girls spin by on bikes… legs straight as stems…blond ponytails, a fan of sunflowers…descend the gravel road…” This poem led me to recall my own youth, and many joyful days spent with friends at the beach.  

Inspiration can also be an aha moment. My autistic son, Chase, ran track in high school. One day while watching him run a race I was inspired to write the story, “Track Star.” Chase was a proud member of the varsity track team. He told anyone that would listen that he was a track star. My aha moment comes at the end of the story. “…Chase walks to the bleachers and sits down. I hear him tell one of the kids, ‘I run varsity. I’m a track star.’ The kid smiles at Chase. I smile because he kept running right to the end. This time he finished almost last, but there would be more races. The kids who come in last learn the hardest lessons—how to run against the odds.”

Inspiration can come in conversation. A friend and I had attended a poetry event at our local library. Speakers stood at a podium set in front of a floor-to-ceiling window. The audience had a view of the vineyard beyond the glass. A little bunny hopped about while we listened to each poet read. Later I told my friend that I had enjoyed the program both the poets and the bunny. “The Poet and the bunny, what a wonderful title for a children’s story,” my friend said. I agreed and used the title later for a picture book project.    

Nature is a great source of inspiration. I often take walks down a nearby vineyard lane. To feel the warming sun, to hear birds call, or see a field turned bright with yellow mustard. That is all I need for inspiration. It’s waiting just outside my door.

What inspires you?

HUGGING YOU

Below is a poem written a few years ago to my valentine, Dave. "He's a great hugger," my Aunt Annie told me when she first met Dave. We went to visit her in PA after we were married and she hosted a wedding reception for us. Aunt Annie, in her 80's now, knew from just one hug that I had made a good choice. She's right. Hope you all have hugs this Valentine's Day that remind you of what a gift it is to be loved.


Hugging You

is like diving

into an envelope

stationery
folded neatly in thirds
words tucked in

wrapped in ribbon

for safe-keeping

Share how you feel about hugs.

TODAY I SHOP FOR NEW JEANS

My old ones have split at the seams              

before holiday dinners
my waistline was thinner
sadly I know what this means

Today I shop for new jeans

I sort through the rows
of sizable clothes
extending now into the teens
sadly I know what this means

Today I shop for new jeans

plate after plate
of the goodies I ate
blew my diet to smithereens
sadly I know what this means

Today I shop for new jeans

I’ve been to the gym
and still can’t get slim
it’s harder to do than it seems
sadly I know what this means

Today I shop for new jeans

I stand on the scale
as my face starts to pale
how could this happen I scream
sadly I know what this means

Today I shop for new jeans

I bump into Sue
She must need jeans too
I’m so glad it isn’t just me
sadly I know what this means

Do you need to shop for new jeans?

Secret Santa: Finding My Hallmark Moment

Every year I struggle with whether or not to write a holiday newsletter. I want to fill the page with happy thoughts thinking it’s up to me to spread cheer, but I don’t always feel great about the year. I don’t want my letter to sound like the family version of the “Stepford Wives.” I try not to use too many sappy lines like “We are truly blessed.” Some years those lines just don’t seem to ring true. Maybe I'm still searching for my Hallmark moment.

Jacque and Jim Adamson

For the past couple years during the holidays I have volunteered to help Jacqueline Eigen, a local teacher and minister, with a Secret Santa project. I joined six fellow elves, and many more behind-the-scenes, to organize a Christmas party for 40 seniors at Creative Living at the Calistoga Community Center. We passed out cards and gifts and joined Santa for a lunch catered by the Rotary Club of Calistoga.  

Stuffed moose

Jim Adamson, also an elf,  guitarist and singer from the band, “TheRythym Cats”, entertained everyone by singing Christmas Carols and everyone joined in. Top Santa, Jacque and her senior friend, Joe Bob, called out numbers for donated raffle prizes. I watched as one darling elder opened her gift, a stuffed moose. She was so delighted she hugged her prize tightly and let it sit on her lap for a long while. It was the sort of thing you might see a little girl do. 

Elf team

Soon it was time for our elf team to pass out gifts bags. As the seniors accepted their presents they responded with lovely smiles. They were so appreciative of inexpensive items like gloves and scarves, shampoos and soaps, candles and candy. I was enchanted by how little it took to brighten their day.

My job had been to write notes inside the Christmas cards that we delivered. I had a list of 36 names and I wanted to write something personal in each, but after a while I started to run out of cheery things to say so I borrowed phrases from Hallmark like, “Keep the season’s cheer throughout the new year," and "May the joy of the season warm your heart.” Maybe no one would notice, after all there are only so many sweet and sappy things to say about the holidays. Is it really cheating if it's for a good cause?

Rotary Club Elves

When it came time to say our goodbyes a little lady smiled at me broadly and asked if I was “Secret Santa Barbara,” the one who signed the Christmas cards. Oh no, was this gal working undercover for Hallmark cards? 

Thankfully she wasn't. She wanted to personally thank me for my beautiful handwriting and the kind words I had written to her. These seniors really appreciated everything we did for them.

Now as I sit down to write my holiday newsletter, and I borrow a closing line from Hallmark, there’s a little warm spot glowing inside me, a reminder that this season is truly about sharing. I don’t think Hallmark would mind a bit.

Elf Sharon

Santa and friends

Santa, Jacque, Joe Bob, Jim