tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50335669822122476772024-03-25T14:13:29.947-07:00she told small stories..."There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you."
- Maya Angelou
Noodle Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09752301416743754496noreply@blogger.comBlogger30125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5033566982212247677.post-75674028733200302192024-03-22T08:25:00.000-07:002024-03-22T08:25:03.638-07:00Coffee in Barcelona...<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
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<span style="font-size: large; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;">I remember the smell of my grandmother's coffee. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;">She would make it in a </span><span style="font-size: large; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;">little</span> <span style="font-size: large; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;">stove top percolator first thing in the morning.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;">Water, coffee and heat...c</span><span style="font-size: large; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;">offee was coffee. Simple and pure.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;">When I was seven grandpa gave me a little cup and saucer of my very own and I would get coffee with the grownups when we had company<em style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;">.</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;">My coffee; one part coffee, four parts milk and three tablespoons of sugar.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;">A cup of coffee has the fragrance and feel of <em style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;">home </em>no matter where you happen to be...</span><span style="font-size: large; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"></span></div><div class="separator" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; clear: both; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; clear: both; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; clear: both; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; clear: both; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; clear: both; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; clear: both; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; clear: both; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px;"><br /></span></div>
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br />Noodle Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09752301416743754496noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5033566982212247677.post-60313413213982114882024-03-21T08:20:00.000-07:002024-03-23T10:41:04.409-07:00Sarah the superhero...<p> </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>There was the depression and then the drinking...</p><p>. That whole socially acceptable thing that spread as fast as the Covid had.</p><p>That had landed her in the psych unit of the hospital for 2 weeks.</p><p>that's where she met Sararh. </p><p><br /></p><p>Sarah seemed to feel as though she had to be invited into the conversation.</p><p>or activity.</p><p>Sarah was round and soft, young and quite...</p><p>she was old and thin, frail and short. -</p><p><br /></p><p>They had nothing whatsoever in common until then.</p><p>Sarah was so timid and introverted.</p><p>But her heart was as big as the great outdoors of the planes of Texas she loved, and it seeped through. </p><p>and showed itself. in everything she said and did.</p><p>They kept in touch over the months then years.</p><p>But they were always texts and emails.</p><p>Happy birthday, Happy holidays...how are things...</p><p>.</p><p>One day recently she was at a very low point in her life. </p><p>Medically, legally, monetarily, </p><p>She was sitting at the kitchen table crying...</p><p>The phone rang, it wasn't a number she recognized but something posseted her to answer anyway. </p><p>It was Sarah!</p><p>Not a text not an e mail but Sarah!</p><p>It was as if she had known.</p><p>She had sensed that the woman needed her.</p><p>There she was out of the clear blue Texas. Sky and she cried even harder.</p><p>She called Sarah 2 days later.</p><p>Sarah the magnificent!</p><p>Sarah the quietly shy who had swooped in and rescued her from the depths of despair.</p><p>Sarsh the sensational</p><p>her very own superhero</p><p>Somehow Sarah had known.</p><p><br /></p><p>Zap</p><p>Bam</p><p>Swoosh</p><p>Zoom</p><p>...</p><p><br /></p><p>If you are ever fortunate enough to meet a Sarah and have one in your life</p><p>hold om to them with everything you have.</p><p>They are few and far between.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p> </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p> </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p> </p><p><br /></p>Noodle Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09752301416743754496noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5033566982212247677.post-45487740785378977712021-09-26T08:18:00.001-07:002021-09-26T08:18:52.073-07:00Shifting...<div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiivCunffUSaok62vuMz8ZKGJo-fCrfFpjQ-HNW14wPwGl8juQH0GSXsuMm5Scb6I1JwT_yBMku0DY0oxjxmjULld_ekDKHTsilPDSK2cfBozc51N126XlukCokVfF60JkoYnpzFUmrAVE/s1710/2eee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1153" data-original-width="1710" height="432" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiivCunffUSaok62vuMz8ZKGJo-fCrfFpjQ-HNW14wPwGl8juQH0GSXsuMm5Scb6I1JwT_yBMku0DY0oxjxmjULld_ekDKHTsilPDSK2cfBozc51N126XlukCokVfF60JkoYnpzFUmrAVE/w640-h432/2eee.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><div><br /></div></span>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">The air began to stir.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">That’s how it always
started.</span><br /><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">A slight tingling in
the breeze above your head that made its way to the hair on </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">your arms.</span><br /><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Something was coming.</span><br /><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">She remembered the
first time she had felt it.</span><br /><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">It would gradually get stronger
until it was a force.</span><br /><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">They had become known
as the X-winds.</span><br /><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">A meteorological shift
in weather patterns. </span><br /><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">That’s what they had
told everyone.</span><br /><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Very few knew what
really caused the disturbances.</span><br /><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Standing there now
feeling the buildup of the wind she knew exactly what was </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">coming...</span><br />
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Noodle Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09752301416743754496noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5033566982212247677.post-4963877775082975132020-04-29T09:53:00.000-07:002020-04-29T09:53:06.057-07:00freedom...She woke up different.<br />
<br />
Done with trying to find out who was with her and who was against her or walking down the middle<br />
because they didn't have the guts to pick a side.<br />
<br />
She was done with everything that didn't bring her peace.<br />
<br />
She realized that opinions where a dime a dozen, validation was for parking and loyalty wasn't a word but a lifestyle.<br />
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It was then that her life changed.<br />
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And not because of a man, or a job,<br />
but because she realized that life is way too short to leave the key<br />
to your happiness in someone else's pocket...<br />
<br />
-unknown-<br />
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<br />Noodle Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09752301416743754496noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5033566982212247677.post-62717785442803219152020-02-28T07:51:00.002-08:002020-02-28T07:51:50.352-08:00Closing in...<br />
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<br />
<br />
When she was little it was just a greyish haze not too oppressive and she could shake it away.<br />
She was young and strong then.<br />
<br />
Later it became more like a fog that would roll in from time to time but there was a part of it that was always there hovering just above her.<br />
<br />
Now it hung over her like a thick black cloud day by day getting bigger and closer and thicker and darker.<br />
<br />
It had become a part of her.<br />
<br />
She couldn't escape it no matter how far she went or how fast she ran or how old she got.<br />
<br />
And one day it would envelop her and she would be gone forever.<br />
<br />
And maybe that was okay.<br />
<br />Noodle Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09752301416743754496noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5033566982212247677.post-72605641473874378132019-08-12T02:00:00.000-07:002019-08-12T07:58:41.682-07:00Beads and things...<h2 class="date-header">
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<br />
They hang on my wall collecting dust and holding memories.<br />
I found them in Morocco on my way to the desert.<br />
I have never worn them, not once.<br />
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These aren't the only ones.<br />
<br />
There are the big silver beads on leather that I brought back from India and gave to a woman named Mary.<br />
<br />
Years later when she passed away her grand daughter sent them back to me with a beautiful note saying how much she had loved them. And that Mary had wanted me to have them back when she was gone.<br />
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There are the cherry amber beads on twine given to me by the chief of a Zambian village as a gift of thanks for my visit to do an art project with the children at the little school there.<br />
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There are the antique ivory beads, that I would never wear but they are beautiful even though they represent the senseless slaughter of endangered species.<br />
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There are the ones that where purchased in Tanzania from a woman who needed to feed her children...<br />
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<br />
Will I ever wear any of them?<br />
<br />
Probably not.<br />
<br />
But each strand has the ability to take me right back to the moment and the place where I acquired them.<br />
<br />
Hold on to this jewelry you will never wear. Hold on to the moments they represent for they are precious. <br />
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Respect and cherish them...<br />
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And be grateful for the opportunities that lead you to them,<br />
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Noodle Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09752301416743754496noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5033566982212247677.post-12286132808158199102019-04-24T07:51:00.000-07:002019-04-24T14:46:44.467-07:00Life...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Life is hard. It's the hardest thing any of us will ever do. But then maybe that's the idea.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Life can be cruel it can beat you up and knock you out...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It can shake you to your very core and leave you bruised and bleeding in the depths of despair.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Life is not fair.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The good die young, the poor get poorer and nice guys finish last.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">We stumble and fumble our way through life believing there is some grand plan.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">Life is not a rehearsal, it's the real deal.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">There are no do-overs.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Life is messy...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">But in the small unexpected moments there is the stuff that keeps us going.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Those things that bring a faint hint of hope into our otherwise chaotic lives. Those are the moments to pay attention to because those are the things you will carry on into the rest our your days.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">But you must be vigilant, these are not grand important things. They are small, quiet, seemingly irrelevant things hidden throughout life like a scavenger hunt.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Treasures to be found and kept to reflect on when things get difficult and times get tough. They are the things that matter most in the end.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So be vigilant.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">This has been a test, it was only a test, had it been an actual...</span><br />
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br />Noodle Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09752301416743754496noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5033566982212247677.post-59073901261177091282019-04-08T07:33:00.000-07:002019-04-11T07:33:36.456-07:00Missing...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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April 3, 2019:<br />
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It was just sitting there glowing.<br />
<br />
Henry had found it while walking through the vacant lot on his way home from school.<br />
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He thought about showing it to his friends but he really wanted to keep its existence to himself.<br />
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Especially until he could figure out exactly what it was and what it did.<br />
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April 12th, 2019;<br />
<br />
The whole town was out.<br />
<br />
They'd been searching for days hoping to find some clue as to what had happened.<br />
<br />
But three weeks later...no one knew what had become of Henry..<br />
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<br />Noodle Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09752301416743754496noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5033566982212247677.post-4509034976892692372019-01-04T14:07:00.001-08:002019-01-04T14:07:15.501-08:00In Paris...<br />
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<br />
He was always there.<br />
<br />
From morning to late afternoon.<br />
<br />
I don't have any idea where he got the money to buy the bread he'd feed them.<br />
<br />
I don't know where he slept or if he had food to eat for himself.<br />
<br />
He'd sit on one of the benches in front of the cathedral rain or shine.<br />
<br />
"They are my family", he told me once.<br />
<br />
They would flock to him one at a time as soon as he sat down.<br />
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They had a bond.<br />
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An exchange of trust.<br />
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br />Noodle Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09752301416743754496noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5033566982212247677.post-240953559467064412018-10-02T13:03:00.001-07:002018-10-03T16:46:40.334-07:00Silent vigil...<br />
There are people running through the streets above us.<br />
<br />
There is nowhere to run but it doesn't seem to matter.<br />
<br />
I was running and fell through this door way. I barely escaped being trampled.<br />
<br />
I can make out shapes in the darkness.<br />
<br />
I think there are seven of us down here.<br />
<br />
It's hard to know for sure.<br />
<br />
Fear and hunger have driven some of the others into the damp corners where the light falls off<br />
suddenly and all that's left is the stench.<br />
<br />
We are all just waiting.<br />
<br />
My hair keeps sticking to the concrete wall I'm leaning against.<br />
<br />
I'm not sure but I think it's sticky from the blood.<br />
<br />
Every time I move my head a few more strands are pulled out adding to the growing number left on the wall behind me.<br />
<br />
Most of us have gathered in a space away from the door, more toward the center of the room.<br />
<br />
The corners are too dangerous.<br />
<br />
The young man with the glasses was curled up in one of the corners when he was attacked by a rat trying to gnaw through the blood soaked towel around his leg.<br />
<br />
I think we may be in the basement of an old grocery store.<br />
<br />
We found some boxes of stale crackers but they were gone after the first few days.<br />
<br />
There are some tin cans of something but the ends are bulging and there's nothing to open them with anyway.<br />
<br />
The water ran out yesterday.<br />
<br />
There is an old couple sitting across from me.<br />
<br />
The woman couldn't stop crying, she just sobbed and clutched a photograph to her chest.<br />
<br />
Her husband said it was a picture of their son.<br />
<br />
He tried to comfort his wife but after two days, he stopped.<br />
<br />
After that she cried all the harder.<br />
<br />
Yesterday she stopped crying. She's been silent ever since.<br />
<br />
The blond girl at the end of room talked to me for the first couple of days.<br />
<br />
Now she just sits in silence like most of the others.<br />
<br />
Today I tried to talk to any of them but there was no response.<br />
<br />
None of them will answer me.<br />
<br />
My brain feels sluggish and I just want to sleep.<br />
<br />
I don't feel the hunger anymore but I'm very thirsty.<br />
<br />
I mention this to the old couple across the room but there is no reply.<br />
<br />
I have begun to crave the sound of another human voice more than that of water to quench my thirst.<br />
<br />
If someone doesn't speak to me soon , I'm sure I will go mad.<br />
<br />
My eyes feel heavy.<br />
<br />
Maybe it would be alright to sleep for just a little while.<br />
<br />
When I wake up maybe someone will talk to me.<br />
<br />
I'm sure one of them will have something to say soon...<br />
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<br />Noodle Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09752301416743754496noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5033566982212247677.post-87549807899532113342018-08-28T08:39:00.000-07:002018-08-28T08:39:12.731-07:00Imagination...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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She crawled under the blankets with the flashlight.</div>
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In this tent of far off adventures, she would wander the entire world, slay dragons and waltz among the stars.</div>
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She would be lost for hours in a world of books.</div>
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And when her mother found her still awake, the flashlight would be confiscated but the adventures would remain.</div>
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<br />Noodle Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09752301416743754496noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5033566982212247677.post-26334271606257930222018-08-02T08:00:00.000-07:002018-08-02T08:57:17.370-07:00Grandpa's watch...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgef5lLEKbKoVaCQrWiyg35i2qjYwXfZBF9KCH9SvhTic8P7NpbFz-gdPZUJ27YyyHLkRf6UwU0vet5THJ4TRLMwrR-AVvhxSRzvnxcK-MIOdk72QBe-eJC8xoOLE4yPtPDuZE6c5lRcJw/s1600/timetwo1+%25285%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgef5lLEKbKoVaCQrWiyg35i2qjYwXfZBF9KCH9SvhTic8P7NpbFz-gdPZUJ27YyyHLkRf6UwU0vet5THJ4TRLMwrR-AVvhxSRzvnxcK-MIOdk72QBe-eJC8xoOLE4yPtPDuZE6c5lRcJw/s400/timetwo1+%25285%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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It had belonged to his father and it was one of the only things he'd brought to this country with him.<br />
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He would sit in front of the television set at night watching the boxing matches.<br />
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Every once in a while he'd throw a punch in the air in solidarity.<br />
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We'd be in the doorway watching, giggling.<br />
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He made wine in the basement.<br />
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You could smell the grapes fermenting when you went to get the laundry.<br />
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He always wore suspenders and flannel shirts, even in the summer.<br />
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He'd wait until he thought no one was looking before giving the dog a piece of whatever he was eating.<br />
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Then he'd pet her until someone happened to glace over in which case he'd push the dog away as if she was bothering him.<br />
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He did the same with me when I was little but I knew it was all for show.<br />
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He was afraid of looking weak, looking too<i> nice.</i><br />
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He spent many years in a nursing home unaware of his surrounding's or the people who visited.<br />
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It broke my heart.<br />
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The watch sat on the bedside table along with a photograph of his wife until the day he passed away.<br />
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<br />Noodle Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09752301416743754496noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5033566982212247677.post-59805765007679464572018-05-31T14:23:00.002-07:002018-11-14T14:11:20.120-08:00Vows...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg30Ukfog4tDCceNUFdq9M4C19OB935UbI0Z34DgM_rQc5Odnrpg2LfnHXovEOtZSefF1xsQ1ioGTGGcgwNU-nAzPrkvB_vMakrDlg4TvO_BtOHDcMoa20yDinbVpbfvcseX8K7FArvPQ/s1600/IMG_0463+%25283%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1161" data-original-width="1600" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg30Ukfog4tDCceNUFdq9M4C19OB935UbI0Z34DgM_rQc5Odnrpg2LfnHXovEOtZSefF1xsQ1ioGTGGcgwNU-nAzPrkvB_vMakrDlg4TvO_BtOHDcMoa20yDinbVpbfvcseX8K7FArvPQ/s320/IMG_0463+%25283%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Then it all just went dark.<br />
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Darker than she could ever have imagined.<br />
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There had been plenty of very bad days in the past.<br />
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Twenty six years they'd been doing this...this thing.<br />
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It began even before the vows were spoken.<br />
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Year by year it just got harder to pretend.<br />
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And now it was just a black hole of pain and misery.<br />
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That place in the universe where things went to die.<br />
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She'd hung on because that's what you did didn't you?<br />
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In the end, staying had ended up being much more destructive.<br />
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<br />Noodle Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09752301416743754496noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5033566982212247677.post-69234320048515743052018-04-29T08:00:00.001-07:002018-04-29T08:00:08.440-07:00shine on...<br />
He had always been fascinated by the stars and the planets.<br />
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Once she had explained to him that we were all made of stardust. <br />
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That we all contained bits and pieces of exploded stars and planets floating through the universe.<br />
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She stood looking up into the night sky remembering those evenings when they would go out into the field in back of the Dairy Queen, put down a blanket and lay there watching the stars overhead.<br />
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She'd point out the constellations and by the time he was 4, he knew them all by heart.<br />
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Cassiopeia was his favorite.<br />
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He had said that if we were all made of stardust that we all had our own way to shine and wouldn't it be something if we all decided to shine at the same time?<br />
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Now there would be no more stories about moon beams and galaxies...<br />
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but there is still that shine.<br />
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🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤<br />
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Shine on sweetie...<br />
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<br />Noodle Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09752301416743754496noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5033566982212247677.post-37893642498081975912018-03-24T17:41:00.001-07:002018-03-24T17:41:44.224-07:00Slow dancing...<br />
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The black taffeta skirt rustled as she swirled across the floor of her bedroom.<br />
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Bending and swaying to the notes of the melody coming from the radio.<br />
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She let the music and the rhythm lead her around the room.<br />
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And she couldn't have cared less that she was her own partner...<br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">. </span></div>
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<br />Noodle Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09752301416743754496noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5033566982212247677.post-19025424378047831902018-03-14T13:59:00.000-07:002018-03-14T13:59:40.951-07:00Facade....<div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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She took one last look around the house.<br />
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It looked bare and unloved now without all the little bits and pieces that dominated the rooms, much like her grandmother's personality had dominated her childhood.<br />
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A harsh, cold woman who didn't see a need for empathy or compassion.<br />
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Those things only made you weak.<br />
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Yet some nights she would wake to hear the strains of Beethoven or Strauss floating through dark and she'd sneak down the stairs to watch as her grandmother sat at the piano.<br />
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Alone in the dark with only the light of the moon shinning through the windows, lost in the music she was making.<br />
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This soft and tender side her grandmother never let anyone see.<br />
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This facade, this side of herself her grandmother kept hidden.<br />
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She would never understand why...<br />
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<br />Noodle Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09752301416743754496noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5033566982212247677.post-5674626945431431522018-03-08T16:24:00.001-08:002018-03-08T16:24:45.684-08:00Loss...<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div>
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What is left is a faded blue puppy given to him by a volunteer on one of his too frequent stays in the hospital, several small wooden trucks, a Snoopy pillow case and boxes of photographs.</div>
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Over the years you wait for the pain go away but it never does.</div>
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It just changes.</div>
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It shifts from day to day and year to year and becomes something different, sometimes better sometimes worse.</div>
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And you manage to get through the days...at least most of the time.</div>
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You hold on tight and breath and even though you are not the most religious person in the world, you pray a lot.</div>
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And if you are very lucky you make it through to the moments when you remember things without the pain and you smile...and then you cry again and that's okay.</div>
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For Brandon</div>
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xoxoxoxoxox</div>
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br />Noodle Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09752301416743754496noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5033566982212247677.post-87702352221509738002018-03-03T16:14:00.002-08:002018-03-03T16:16:12.303-08:00Release...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_i2DJSdxsm2x2psMulIKJYxcxGWUHW4gsVb6SLBOLKnmkGmBPeY5JfbYPp4D8jMvRgbjuQzjDZF9zxwgj1u_Gd0lPrZFGykHGSY_Kj6E-5T7xybKeV35szv9_uMWdjAHsnfPfmIu4JyA/s1600/IMGP2488a.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1182" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_i2DJSdxsm2x2psMulIKJYxcxGWUHW4gsVb6SLBOLKnmkGmBPeY5JfbYPp4D8jMvRgbjuQzjDZF9zxwgj1u_Gd0lPrZFGykHGSY_Kj6E-5T7xybKeV35szv9_uMWdjAHsnfPfmIu4JyA/s400/IMGP2488a.JPG" width="295" /></a></div>
<br />
She was only fourteen.<br />
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I listened as all the pain and frustration came pouring out of her.<br />
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Time spent trying to hold it all back had made it something thick and black and choking.<br />
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I could hear the desperation in her words.<br />
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My soul is weary and raw, she said.<br />
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Her eyes looked tired and haunted.<br />
<br />
Years of anguish had taken its toll.<br />
<br />
She wasn't crying because she wasn't strong.<br />
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She was crying because she'd had to be strong for so long.<br />
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<br />Noodle Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09752301416743754496noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5033566982212247677.post-82444383111805529172018-02-24T17:53:00.002-08:002018-07-31T07:59:43.654-07:00Empty...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVPdvNX5KrqMHbFLVRPlWL7FPtu0oKoNIajKbHMNureP7Uj0ekIh8oaq04-C72gXa8qDuZ_cS3wn5P5fy6VdNTUJ_w3fxlsePqB75OUoSynDsizo8mAoRxEFUIoAsWgO_mpZJwHDKmxnI/s1600/InkedScan0022xxxxw_LIooooooooooooooooo+-+Copy+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1367" data-original-width="1428" height="611" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVPdvNX5KrqMHbFLVRPlWL7FPtu0oKoNIajKbHMNureP7Uj0ekIh8oaq04-C72gXa8qDuZ_cS3wn5P5fy6VdNTUJ_w3fxlsePqB75OUoSynDsizo8mAoRxEFUIoAsWgO_mpZJwHDKmxnI/s640/InkedScan0022xxxxw_LIooooooooooooooooo+-+Copy+%25282%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">They hadn’t drawn him wide enough to add a heart.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">He was a stick figure and thus had no depth or width </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">He was merely a doodle in the margin of someone’s
imagination. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">But Oliver wanted so badly to be a real boy.</span></div>
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Noodle Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09752301416743754496noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5033566982212247677.post-49661750412120052992018-02-20T17:59:00.001-08:002018-02-20T17:59:22.742-08:00She wears silver bangles...<br />
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<em>It's the sound they make that announces she's in the room.</em><br />
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<em>She uses her hands to punctuate her words as she speaks and the bracelets dance around on her wrists.</em><br />
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<i>I listen as she talks and the bracelets tinkle.</i><br />
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<i>I close my eyes and remember my childhood and the sound of the wind chimes hanging from my grandmothers back porch.</i><br />
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br />Noodle Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09752301416743754496noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5033566982212247677.post-7754192837305349082018-02-16T15:51:00.000-08:002018-02-16T15:51:27.789-08:00Ode to childhood...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It was in the time before the wheel chair.<br />
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Things were still possible and dreams could still come true. <br />
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Fairy tales still had happy endings and the world made sense.<br />
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It was a time of innocence and bliss. <br />
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Then came the doctors and hospitals and fear.<br />
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And childhood was no more, replaced by heartbreak and loss.<br />
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And the dreams were now nightmares and the stories had no happy <br />
endings and innocence no longer applied...<br />
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br />Noodle Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09752301416743754496noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5033566982212247677.post-10252079377029673532018-02-12T13:49:00.000-08:002018-10-14T22:06:30.457-07:00My Grandmothers ring...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhInLxFYcGeZpPxcTBNa8iIcRQJShxSJBVyXAAxkfsdVtrPy7cTDtpO2YFUAQb7QecUxidvM9AmM7yhyvrUgFOdCdkRKzpgu6sPUT1dS3H7sFnR2E__s1u-CQvH7O8dveZfyqDLDhNi-uI/s1600/xxxxtalismancropBW.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="327" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhInLxFYcGeZpPxcTBNa8iIcRQJShxSJBVyXAAxkfsdVtrPy7cTDtpO2YFUAQb7QecUxidvM9AmM7yhyvrUgFOdCdkRKzpgu6sPUT1dS3H7sFnR2E__s1u-CQvH7O8dveZfyqDLDhNi-uI/s400/xxxxtalismancropBW.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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She gave it to me on my 18th birthday.</div>
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I'd never seen her wear it, not once.</div>
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The gold was a rose gold with a design so intricate you could almost imagine little elves had craved it. </div>
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It held the most beautiful moonstone I had ever seen. </div>
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In the right light you would swear it wasn't even there, just the glow of it remained and you'd have to reach out and touch its smooth surface to reassure yourself it hadn't just up and disappeared...</div>
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"Bella Luna" she called it; beautiful moon.</div>
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I rarely wore it, too afraid that I'd lose it or damage it.</div>
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And so it sat in a box for 20 odd years</div>
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Last week I gave it to my daughter.</div>
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She of the will of iron, the brave of heart who embraces all things in life.</div>
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She who colors outside the lines and dances to her own drummer's beat.</div>
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I gave it to my daughter and that minute she put it on and she has worn it ever since.</div>
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br />Noodle Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09752301416743754496noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5033566982212247677.post-44291411886124601302018-02-08T08:03:00.001-08:002018-02-08T08:03:28.289-08:00Lemon tea...<strong><span style="font-size: large;"></span></strong><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZCvRM1CpscXTS0u3k2S9EKY75jJvZKFI8iz7GA5cSpb8ekcbjiQ2wDDjIPyIbaZLpp18K76rH1Sd2mmkMzspcMlT4bX5tU5KnNiS1ATqc6F2TEq2Y6Jxab_ZaVHYNpyk6YtDXFveeAwk/s1600/cup+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZCvRM1CpscXTS0u3k2S9EKY75jJvZKFI8iz7GA5cSpb8ekcbjiQ2wDDjIPyIbaZLpp18K76rH1Sd2mmkMzspcMlT4bX5tU5KnNiS1ATqc6F2TEq2Y6Jxab_ZaVHYNpyk6YtDXFveeAwk/s400/cup+%25282%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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When I was a little girl I had trouble with my tonsils. I had a lot of sore throats...<br />
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Grandma would make me a cup of her special <em>feel better lemon tea </em>with a big spoonful of honey and I would fall asleep while she told me stories about fairies and princes and happily ever after's... <br />
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I remained blissfully unaware until recently that each one of those cups of tea contained a stiff shot of Grandpa's whisky...<br />
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br />Noodle Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09752301416743754496noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5033566982212247677.post-23268402694137064992018-02-06T10:03:00.002-08:002018-06-14T07:40:51.139-07:00The box...<div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It sat on the shelf of the bookcase for as long as I can remember.<br />
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I never really thought too much about it or what was in it, it was just there. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgifQ7o36LRhWA_R0imkswAZVSmEysVGF0UZkoe-98WFB7CxAtcCNEItN4QBH32YWJnkPS6ARxahppPhYwl0DndLp7RRv3hMByh7xTyTBADrE2C3CqeprRC1QEWyItuGeALW653HIU_RN0/s1600/DSC_0159+%25288%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1017" data-original-width="1600" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgifQ7o36LRhWA_R0imkswAZVSmEysVGF0UZkoe-98WFB7CxAtcCNEItN4QBH32YWJnkPS6ARxahppPhYwl0DndLp7RRv3hMByh7xTyTBADrE2C3CqeprRC1QEWyItuGeALW653HIU_RN0/s400/DSC_0159+%25288%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Sitting next to the bowl of wax fruit and the battered copy of The Fannie Farmer Cook Book<br />
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When my mother died it took me quite a while to go through her things and when I did my heart just wasn't in it at the time.<br />
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Then I came to the box.<br />
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It was filled with small pieces of all sorts and colors of scraps of paper and on each one she had written a wish, a prayer.<br />
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Some were big, some small, some were long, some were short.<br />
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Some just one word.<br />
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But there they were hundreds of hopes and wishes and prayers all slipped into the old oak box.<br />
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Quietly waiting in the hopes that one day they would be heard and answered...<br />
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<br />
Laura<br />
May 15, 1943-February 6, 2016<br />
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<br />Noodle Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09752301416743754496noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5033566982212247677.post-27846848284044503462018-02-02T09:07:00.001-08:002018-02-02T09:07:42.965-08:00Human concerto...<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: medium;"></span><span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG9d9npWW0ylDxwG7h3zN5bSOLa8G20ICKfl2KsA0TxHOwIl35XODdulXFmipnq8fbofoB9MNEo6ZwV1jP3fZCLE9WOkNcPXqwOoFTkDOuCBzgVw3rBKgpCNQu2Nn4gyERGyi6H8cBczE/s1600/cello1amed3xxsep.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG9d9npWW0ylDxwG7h3zN5bSOLa8G20ICKfl2KsA0TxHOwIl35XODdulXFmipnq8fbofoB9MNEo6ZwV1jP3fZCLE9WOkNcPXqwOoFTkDOuCBzgVw3rBKgpCNQu2Nn4gyERGyi6H8cBczE/s400/cello1amed3xxsep.jpg" width="318" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br /></div>
<span style="font-size: medium;"></span><span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">She held the instrument close. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">She wanted the notes of her life to accompany the music of her</span><span style="font-size: large;"> soul.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">She wanted all others to listen to their own music and applaud loudly.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Then perhaps someday everyone might listen to the strains of </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">each others melodies...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">and delight in the symphony of humanity.</span><br />
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br />Noodle Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09752301416743754496noreply@blogger.com2