Small - a Five Minute Friday post

A bit late in the day, but here's my contribution to the Five Minute Friday challenge. Take five minutes and join us. You can get details here.

This week's word: small

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“Good things come in small packages” my parents used to say. My mother said it with a defiant smile, holding her five foot self erect and proud. My father said it as he looked lovingly at the woman he called his sweetheart even after nearly 60 years of marriage.

I loved that phrase when I was small. As the youngest, I was smaller than everyone. My voice was small. I felt my very presence was small.

But then I got big. I was taller than both of my parents by high school. Once I had kids of my own, I was heavier than both of them, too. Not hard, granted. As my mother aged she improved, got better and better (read, smaller and smaller).

But just the other day I heard my mother’s voice through me tell my youngest about the good things in small packages as she dragged a stool over to reach the bowl on the top kitchen shelf, complaining about her height. And though she is not my sweetheart, I think I must have had that same loving look on my face when I saw my daughter straighten up with a proud sly smile. That smile is no small thing. 

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Lonely - A Five Minute Friday post

 Here's my contribution to the Five Minute Friday fun hosted by Lisa-Jo Baker.

Lonely

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You know how sometimes it seems like the whole world is in sync. Like the way it’s raining today. Or the fact that the Five Minute Friday word prompt is “Lonely.”

Today is the one year anniversary of my mother’s death and I have been lonely often this year. How do you learn to be in the world without a mother? I know I’m fortunate that I had her for 43 years. I’m even more fortunate than my brothers and sisters because I remember (at least a little bit) having her all to my self for a whole year when they all went to school and I was the only one left at home with her. I remember going with her to the Pewter Pot for lunch with a friend or with Nana. We went to Nana’s house and visited Aunt Nora and ran errands. We hung around the house and she sewed and made bread.

And for the last few years of her life I drove her to work and to errands (yes, she was 80 and she worked part time for my sister). I took her to doctor appointments and got to know her medical history as I had never known it before. And I saw my Mom one on one as I guess I hadn’t done since that year before I started school.

And every time something comes up with my growing into teenage girls (ages 12 and 14) I think in my head which questions to ask Mom about it, or how I’m going to explain this latest thing to her next time I pick her up. But I’m never going to pick her up again and the loneliness is so intense I’m sure there’s a gray cloud around me that everyone can see.  

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Five Minute Friday - Broken

Participating in the Five Minute Friday writing prompt with Lisa-Jo Baker and her blog followers, because it's fun.

Five Minute Friday prompt: BROKEN
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For more three years, I have been broken. I have not worked the way I am supposed to. But we didn't get the extended warrantee so here we are stuck with what we've got.

I am right handed and somehow, I still don't know exactly how it happened despite the number of times my doctor asks, I hurt my right wrist. It started as an occasional pain that would cause me to limit my activities and wear a brace. Then it became something I could count on every week. For over a year it has been a daily pain. I can't write more than my signature, and even then sometimes just paying for a meal is painful. (Why can't we just use a fingerprint or an eye scan?) I can type, in short bursts, as long as I wear the brace and hold my arm at an awkward angle and use only three fingers (the pinky is completely off limits, being so closely connected to the spot on my wrist that hurts).

Because of the weirdness of the brace, my writing has been broken too. Can't write for the one hour goal. Have to truncate every thing. Blog posts are ideally suited for broken writing, being so short. But, my pain and my frustration (my pissy-ness, if you must know) seeps into every sentence, breaking them.

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Five Minute Friday - Belong

Stumbled across this weekly challenge to write on a word for 5 minutes and share. Thought I'd join the fun. This week's word = BELONG

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I belong to a large family but I have often felt as if I did not, in fact, belong. As crazy as it sounds to imagine that a couple who already had nine kids would adopt a tenth, there was a time when I wondered if that weren't the case. Doesn't every tween think that? I mean really, how can I belong to this family? I don't fit in.

This fear (I was trying to find a different, less negative sounding word, but when you're 13 and you feel like there is no place for you, fear is the descriptor) of not belonging waxed and waned my entire life; continues to do so. I didn't really belong with the "smart crowd" in high school who all had professional parents and seemed to know what was going on. I didn't belong in college - not intellectual enough. And yet, I didn't belong to my working class family either.  My sisters all had husbands, kids, divorces and I was still trying to figure out if I should go to grad school.

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(And, there's the timer letting me know 5 minutes is up. I'll stop writing here, but I like this prompt and will continue to see what this turns into. Thanks Lisa-Jo Baker for the prompt.)