Welcome to my Weekend Coffee Share in verse, hosted by Allison at Eclectic Ali!
Three Little Birds
The birds tell me ‘don’t worry,’
but I am in a hurry
to leave the past behind,
get this year gone from my mind.
Still, they whisper, ‘Be still,
For all of this is real.
Ponder on the lessons,
Each moment has its essence.’
One must flap his wings and go,
One will stay and become known,
The other existing just in our minds
Changeable, elusive, but we shall find
All of these birds will occupy our hearts
One moves in when the other parts.
Everything has its place: past, present, and future. With each New Year, we relegate anotherto joining the ranks of the past. I am probably, like others, anxious to kiss this year goodnight! However, every year has its lessons, and we should not deny them. They are worth remembering! Any mistakes made can bring a lesson, but it is best to remember our mistakes without shame or sorrow, to not continue suffering from our mistakes, but instead, to forgive ourselves and be thankful for the lesson. Most of my mistakes are way back in the past, but they come back to haunt me sometimes. I am working on keeping them in their place and remembering them rationally without berating myself. My anxious brain needs to remember that I am not doomed to continue the same pattern of mistakes. Every day is a new day! There’s nothing like a New Year to remind us of that.
If you’re interested, I summed up my year 2020 in a bloggers’ challenge post by Beaton at becomingthemuse. net, and you may read it here: https://pamelascanepa.wordpress.com/2020/12/16/best-of-the-year-boty2020/ You can also share your own! It was interesting to think on my lessons learned and what were the best parts of this year.
So, as I finish my cereal and decaf coffee today, (part of my new healthy habits), I am feeling optimistic. I also know that I may drag my feet today and spend the day reading, journaling, playing with the dog, and maybe organizing my closet as I try to stay in from the cold. I am allowed to do that today! Everyone who is dear to me is currently COVID free and I got to see them for this holiday. So, this morning, I am one step closer to “being happy.”
*A random word generator gave me the word, ‘flap.’ I was thinking on the New Year and how the old year must take flight. I’m always thinking about how the past, present, and the future collide. Thank you to Bob Marley for inspiring me with his song, “Three Little Birds.” Yes, ‘every little thing, gonna be alright!’
You think, if you isolate, what you fear can’t win. That, if you isolate, you are starving the fear, shutting off from what you fear.
Let me tell you about this little monster. It grows in cold, dark, lonely places void of light, within people who fear the warmth, who assume the worst of others. It grows; it takes over the very person trying to starve it. For, one who assumes the worst, needs to give oneself a chance to be proven wrong. If you are never proven wrong, then why would you change your beliefs?
Isolating is great, when it occurs to get things done, to get down to business and feed your own thoughts. When one isolates to avoid, that monster grows ever stronger and IT feeds off your own thoughts. I know. You see it growing all over me, don’t you?
Two young men had stopped but walked off as the old women opened her coat and removed it to reveal her arms covered in dirt and a green growth all over her arms. She had lost her audience; they were disgusted and maybe even afraid. Â
A little child peeked out at her from behind his mother’s leg where he’d been hiding.
I see you! Don’t be afraid! Don’t let it take over you, don’t do what I did. You still have time! Be brave, little one!
He didn’t turn away; he knew she was not the monster but simply had been overcome. Still, he stayed close to his mother.
Quickly, his mother whisked him away, and the old woman smiled, once again putting on her coat. Her audience was gone, but she had reached one impressionable soul, and this was good. For, she knew paranoia would again sweep the land, and likely very soon.
Why is my life such complete, utter crap?  Jackie pondered.
Santa would be coming soon for many boys and girls in the neighborhood. Santa did not like coming to Jackie’s house when she was younger, because all that was left for him was an empty bottle of bourbon and cookie crumbs. She had tried to tell her teacher that in second grade, much to her later regret. A stay at Aunt Charlene’s house for two weeks was the result. Even Charlene tired of that situation.
Dad lay on the floor by the couch, already passed out. Mom was out with her new boyfriend. How Mom and Dad could be separated and still under the same roof was beyond seventeen-year-old Jackie. She wasn’t sure when Mom would be home.
Would he wake up and vomit? Jackie wondered. Will Mom be home when he does?  Footsteps and cheerful voices approached outside the door.
“Hallo!” Jackie’s mom walked in with a man in tow. “I thought you should meet Tex. Oh,” she stopped short, as if surprised Jackie’s dad was on the floor. He obviously had started early, which was not unusual.
Please, don’t wake up Dad, Jackie thought. “You all should leave. I mean, it’s nice to meet you and all, um, Tex. But I don’t want him to wake up.”
“Nonsense. This is my house too,” Mom claimed.  With that, she sat down on the couch, and Tex on the chair closest by.
“Okay. Suit yourselves. Merry Christmas.” Jackie headed for the door, grabbing her coat.
“Play cards with us?” Tex called.
Jackie shook her head. “I’m headed for Marissa’s house.”
Outside, there was a frost on the ground. The first frost always held hope for Jackie. Weather change meant to her that other things would change too. She felt in her pocket for a twenty dollar bill and her toothbrush. Tonight, at Marissa’s house. And one day, she would leave for good. I create my own reality, she chanted mentally, feet crunching on the frosty grass as she made her way.
Flash fiction response by Pamela Schloesser Canepa, (c) 2019
“Wree, I feel like we are going to be a great success! Thanks for your guidance. I’ve got no idea what your secret is, but this seems to be working.”
“Of course it is, Chap. I know what I’m doing. Could you just, tame your excitement a little though. They can sense it from a mile away. We need to be confident, smooth.” Wree stood and straightened his imaginary tie. Of course, he looked good.
“I’m just not believing it all yet. We’ll be heralded by all, we’ll be famous.” Chap beamed. “I keep thinking we’ll be found out, though, for what we really are.” The smile faded, and anxiety crept over his face. “I mean, I see you and your reptilian nature,” he whispered. “Why don’t they? Why don’t they see my tentacles and fangs?”
“Stop it, Chap. Don’t worry; they’ll never see it. They drank the punch a long time ago. We look like winners to them. We look like money, and it blinds them. Sit tight, because this is the millenia in which we will conquer.” He stood proud again and smiled at an approaching female at the perfect age for carrying and producing an interplanetary specimen. “Hello,” he said with a wink.
****The RDP prompt is shared daily at the Ragtag Community site. You may find today’s prompt at https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2019/11/09/rdp-saturday-punch/ What would you make out of today’s prompt? Thanks for stopping by! Please leave a comment and tell me where you are from, what planet, galaxy, etc. 🙂
“Onward,” Filliburt commanded. “We’ll find their hideout soon enough!” Deeper into the cave they went.
“Hark!” Rexi called, then turned to Filliburt.
“I believe I hear the gentle cry of a banshee,” he whispered.
“Banshees don’t gently cry, that they don’t!” Patterson scolded in his English brogue.
“What do you know , Patterson! You’ve just never met a vulnerable banshee!”
“Cut!” Marson choked through a laugh. Where did these role-players come from? The studio must have been pretty desperate this time around. If he if he had to listen to one more argument about fictionary beings…he just might lose it.
I opened the door and it was like a jack-in-the-box junped out at me.
“You don’t understand, ” she said. “We’ve all got something. These things mean so much to me.
Only, when she’d look for a particular pair, she could only find one shoe or couldn’t find the pair at all. I refused to help.
When she was jailed, two years later, a year after I got fed up and left, it was based on evidence found at the bottom of that closet. No wonder she’d kept it a jumble for so long.
Did she forget what she had buried under that heap?
pamelascanepa 