Our eyes meet as the paramedics jog the gurney away from me down the dreadfully long hall hurrying toward the waiting ambulance. I attempt a reassuring aspect but fail miserably. His color changes from pasty white to gray in an instant. He struggles to breathe. I hold my breath. I swallow a sob as I see the life fade from his eyes.
Pick a classmate’s name out of a bowl, keep it a secret, sneak nice notes or small treats into their desk, share a present at the school Christmas party and reveal your identity. Sounds simple, right? Read more
Hard, butterscotch candy tried to end me.
“Never eat these unless you ask first,” Mom warned.
Immediately, those golden pieces of heaven with matching cellophane called my name. Read more
Waves glide over my head stealing my breath. Not a swimmer, I push forward toward the prize: a sandbar approximately 200 yards off shore. At least I’m praying that’s what it is and not an oceanic mirage.
I sit in the pink semi-darkness of the growing dawn staring into the beautiful eyes of this tiny boy. I am overwhelmed. My breath catches, an ache in my throat, a sob of joy and fear. Fear of the future and joy for what it holds for him. Read more
Everybody must get stoned … a most invasive earworm. Bob Dylan’s quirky song Rainy Day Women #12 and 35 topped the 1966 pop charts. I was a toddler. Read more
“Any concerns?” I hear unease in Dr. Marc’s voice.
Sitting in Walgreen’s parking lot I stare through the rain-smeared windshield, evening traffic rambles by. Read more
Imitated each step. Followed every instruction. I struggle to prepare a meal to her perfection. I don’t possess the patience or skill to achieve mom’s cooking precision. She didn’t leave me her magic wand. Read more
Note: I have joined a writing group that is a bunch of fun! Requirements are that the story has to be exactly 300 words. There are also three required words that the moderator of the group chooses – the very first word of the story and two others. I’ll put those words in bold. Enjoy!
‘Persistence,’ I say to myself as if just the word can propel me forward. I watch each foot rise and fall, rise and fall, getting lost in the rhythm of it. Only another block, I think, keeping my head down and listening to blood rush through my ears.
Or should I keep my head up? I must be crazy. New to this running game, I’m not sure I’m doing it right. My running shoes are mostly used for yard work – gardening, raking, pruning hydrangeas, weed pulling.
My lungs ache and the pounding in my head is so bad, for a moment I think I might have a stroke or just trip and fall in the street, face down, like a drunk stumbling out of a tavern.
‘Breathe!’ I tell myself. It would feel so great to just lay myself down on the cool evening pavement, I muse.
That was the first time I decided to run as serious exercise. I believed I was in great shape. In my late-thirties, I had an eye on the prize of simply accomplishing a 5K race. How hard could it be?
‘Incredibly hard’ was my answer after I ran a short thousand feet that steamy June night. My goal was to run to the President Ronald Reagan statue near my home. Just a thousand feet. Head up the street and turn right. Piece of cake. I think I lost a piece of my lung that night.
Persistence paid off. One foot in front of the other, baby steps – I used all the clichés. I learned to love the sport. I have run 5Ks, 10Ks, half marathons. I haven’t wrapped my mind around a full marathon, though. It’s something I just can’t envision the finish line. After all, it’s a marathon, not a sprint.
