[This post was originally published by Thought Catalog at www.thoughtcatalog.com on June 2, 2015. To see the post in all of its Thought Catalog-y Glory, you can click here. Or just read on…]
Apparently, I am going to have a baby soon. No, this is not my “I’m knocked up!” announcement. If I was actually pregnant, I would obviously post something on Facebook so that you’d be the first to know.
A majority of my ideas regarding getting pregnant, being pregnant and having a baby are whispered to my husband with the preface, “Do Not Tell Anyone That I Feel This Way.”
Yet, here I am Telling Everyone That I Feel This Way.
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Mrs. Pauley is squawking again. I spring onto our porch, ducking among potted plants, just like a secret agent.
“Mom! There are squads across the street!”
At the screen door, Mom wipes her hands on her apron.
“That mess is none of your business, bubba.”
The officer shakes his head as Mrs. Pauley’s mouth moves. Our landlord is there too. I wonder why. He rubs his forehead, checks his watch.
They guide her away from the house.
“Forty years!” Mrs. Pauley squawks, “Forty years!”
Her cane falls. I compromise my secret agent status, dashing to catch her, but she crumples.
A prose poem for you! In response to Writing 201’s Poetry Prompt: Fingers.
That bar has an air of annoying superiority. An unnaturally violent reaction surges. Digit by digit, I press her cocky windpipe. My thumb closes around her black rubber. Choked. The floor drops from my feet. Dangling on hope. I start the swift ascent, exhaling out spongy lungs’ weight, fears and failures. Fresh found lightness lifts my chin above a lifeless bar. Ah! There’s the victor’s view. A moment on the top. Now gravity, my enemy. Muscles trembling, chlorophyll-less leaves in an autumn breeze. I am grabbed and grounded, releasing grip. The bar revives, she breathes and taunts, asks to be choked once more.
[This post was inspired by Writing 101’s Point of View prompt. This is Part II of a four part fiction story. Go back and read Part I: Letter Afire before venturing onward.]
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There were many accomplishments, revelations and joyful moments that were not articulated via the voice of Miss Early Bird this year. While this may be a disappointing fact for the readers, it is an invigorating one for me. The focus of 2014 has been living and being instead of producing and yearning. Among the most common words written on this blog, this neat graphic sums up an annual lesson for all of us: Love life.
Watch out, 2015, I think I’m going to fall in love with you too.