20 - November 30

Topic: You found it in a drawer

.... She reached inside again and felt a little clasp at the top of the back wall of the drawer.  Carefully she slide it sideways with her finger and the back of the drawer fell forward - she could feel the box inside! ....

     It took a bit of maneuvering to get her fingers around the box because it was such a tight space, but finally she eeked her finger in along the side and wiggled the box out.  Taking it gently, she removed it from the drawer.  The box was wood, probably hand-made, with a design of a flower of some kind burned into it.  And under the flower, "AJ" ... Annabelle Jessup?  or someone else? 
     The moment had come ... to open the box.  Then she would know for sure.
     She found the little button and pushed it and the top popped open.  She lifted the lid - 3 pictures, a piece of folded paper, a pin of some kind, a silver ring with a white glass stone in the center and a coin.  She took the photos out and examined them.  One was a black and white picture was of a young man in uniform, standing proudly with a rifle in his arms.  Looking closely, it seemed there was a swastika on the upper part of his sleeve.  She turned it over.  All it said was "Freddy" on the back, written in a definitely female hand.  The second one was of a tree, a path and a dog walking ahead on the path.  There was nothing on the back.  Odd.  And the third one was of a young woman standing beside the boy from the first picture, except he was wearing a formal suit and she was in a beautiful gown.  On the back, there was a date - December 5, 1914 - in the same writing a the first picture. 
     Sarah opened the paper, and it was obviously a love letter.  It was addressed to FM and signed "with all my love, AJ".  The writing was not the same as what was on the back of the photos.  Puzzling.
     Suddenly, she heard a creak from beneath her.  She put the items back into the box and the box into her backpack with hardly a sound and listened carefully - an animal? a person? the house?  there was another creak ... she had no idea what was beneath her.

19 - November 29

Topic: What to do on a hot afternoon

     It had been a while since Anna had gone on an adventure ... She used to do them often when she was younger, but as you age, you seem to put "fun" things aside do make room for "real" things.  So, the fact is, she couldn't even remember the last time she did something like this.
     The day was beautiful - picture perfect.   The sun was brightly shining and the afternoon was shaping up to be absolutely spectacular.  She loved the heat ... she loved the snow as well, but the heat ... just short of melting, was wonderful.  And, with not a cloud in the sky, that's what this day was shaping up to be. 
     Taking her time to get ready, dressed in a cute summer dress, strappy sandals, and a big hat, Anna grabbed her car keys and started her car.  This was her "Audrey hat", because it reminded her of the hat Audrey Hepburn wore in Harper's Bazaar many years ago.  There's something about this hat that made Anna feel carefree and in love with life.  The perfect mood for an adventure!
     "Hmm," she breathed to herself as she stepped out the door and breathed in the warm air.  She had fueled up yesterday so, no need to pause.  She had made herself a tall glass of iced tea to take with her so was careful getting into the car and started the engine.  Now, which way shall she go? 
     She had often gone north so this time, she decided to go south.  That was part of the adventure - picking a direction, picking a road she had never gone down before, and seeing where she ended up.  She pulled out of the driveway and headed in the new direction.  Rolling the windows down, opening the sunroof, turning on the tunes ... life was great!
     She had driven about an hour, through small towns and around to see sprawling cattle ranches.  She even saw a couple of real cowboys herding cattle! And an alpaca ranch - she didn't know there was one so close to the city! The scenery was so amazing! Anna occasionally stopped and took a photograph, even though she knew it that the picture didn't do the scenery justice. 
     Driving down a rather narrow paved road, she saw a sign ahead.  Hey!  she thought to herself. I didn't know this is where Greeley is!  Isn't that where the wonderful weekend market is that everyone talks about?  She decided to check it out. 
     As she drove into the small quaint town, there were people everywhere!  There must be a quicker way there, as so many people seemed to be from somewhere other than Greeley.  As she got out of the car, and donned her Audrey hat, she set out to see what she could find.  Fresh produce, home made jams, trinkets of all kinds ... Anna didn't know where to start!

     
    
    

18 - November 28

Topic: Write about being a long way from home

     They say that the home is the best place to be for Christmas.  The thing is that I don't even know where 'home' is any more.  I guess it's a consequence of becoming an "orphan" before you established your own place in the world.  
     Christmas is in a few weeks and since my parents passed away, I'm always at a loss at this time.  Do I buy gifts?  For who?  Sure - there are a couple of friends and my sister and her husband.  But over time, what used to be an active social life has dwindled to something rather pathetic.  I have found that for all the talk, there really are a lot more people that want support in tough times but don't know how to give it to others when their season of struggle comes along.  I look back over the last few years, and the difficult path in life I had to journey, and how many times was there someone beside me to journey with me?  I don't know if this is a case of not being aware or desperately imagining someone there when in reality it was a mighty lonely trek for most of the time.  I definitely am thankful though, for those people who took time from their lives to join me on my road of life, even if it was for a while. 
     Here I am, sitting in front of the TV yet again, watching "It's A Wonderful Life" for the umteenth time - I get choked up every time when Jimmy Stewart says, 'I want to live again!' - and still that little voice in my head says, 'Nice movie.'  Entering another Christmas where I feel so far away from home that I don't even know where I would go if someone gave me a free ticket to go home for the holidays.
     I hear a knock in the hallway ... the door opens and I can hear festive revelry beginning in the apartment next door.  A party.  I wonder what they would say if I knocked on their door, looking like I am in my fluffy housecoat covered with cats and my schleppy slippers, asking if I could join their party?  Even I have to smile at that picture!  Smile ... and then quickly erase it. 
     "Oh, there's no place like home for the holiday ...." I think in my mind, not for the first time.  What makes a home?  Why is this not my home?  Where is home for me?  And why can't I find it any more?  Maybe, more importantly, what is this saying about me? what is the significance and how do I change it? 
     I lift my legs onto the sofa, wrap myself in a blanket and settle down to finish the movie, even though I know it well enough to speak the lines with the characters.  As much as I don't want to wrestle with this again, I also know that my avoidance of it will lead me to the exact same place again next year.  Still lost.  Still listening to the party next door.  Still wishing it was me given another chance to live again.

17 - November 27

Topic: "There is always more than one silence."

16 - November 26

Topic: Write about back alleys.

     Sarah was lying in bed, praying for sleep, and suddenly a thought came to her.  Tomorrow was garbage day ... and she had three bags of garbage outside of her back door.  Not in the garbage bin by her garage.  Crap.  She nudged her husband, "Honey."  She whispered.  "Honey, could you take the garbage out to the back?"
    "Ummmph," came a noise from the bump beside her.
    "Please?" she pleaded.
    "Ammfph morpannah," he muttered.
    I guess it's up to me, Sarah though.  Well, I guess he's sleeping and I'm not.
    She slipped out of the bed, hoping to keep it warm for her return.  She wrapped herself in her cozy housecoat and found her slippers.  At least she was warm now, she thought.
    Opening the door, she was immediately overcome with the smell of garbage.  "Oh my!" she wrinkled her nose.
    Sarah grabbed the first dark bag.  It wasn't too heavy, but as she lifted it, the smell increased.  How long had these been sitting here?  Surely only 4 or 5 days!  but if this one is 5 days, had we gone through three bags of garbage in 5 days?  That doesn't seem possible. "Oh well, no use resolving this ... better get these to the back and back to bed," she muttered to herself.
    She carried the bag out to the alley, being careful to hold it out from her body.  Reaching the alley, she found the garbage container right where it should be - beside the garage.  Easy for garbage pick up tomorrow.  She opened the lid and picked up the garbage back and dropped it into the black maw. 
    One down, two to go.
    She walked back to the backdoor and picked up the second bag.  Light as a feather!  this one was easy ... and almost no aroma, either!
   Coming back for the last one, all she wanted to do was get this done and get to bed.  She was tired now.  She picked up the last one and this was not a one-hander.  This was almost more than a two-hander!  Sarah grabbed top with both hands.  Ewww!  something was slippery!  And what in the world was in here?  It smelled disgusting!! She held her breath, grabbed the bag firmly and tried to hold it away from her.  It wasn't very effective, but she hobbled with her load to the alley. 
    Sarah turned around to push the gate open and couldn't ... the gate had got latched after my last return. Setting the bag down, she turned, unlatched and pushed the door open.  Picking up the bag with both hands again, she went to ease through the entry.  Suddenly, she realized the bag had snagged on something with the door.  She tugged lightly.  It held firmly.  She tried again.  Nothing.  She pulled a little harder.  Still nothing. 
   Oh crap!  Not now! she moaned.  I don't have the time for this!
   She pulled with more force ... and the bag let go.  She lost her her balance and fell backward, covered with the garbage that flew out of the ripped bag and opening that she could no longer hold on to anymore.  She screeched!
    She lay there, in the back alley, covered in who knows what.  So much for her nice clean, cozy housecoat! She tried not to breath too deeply because she would likely vomit. 
    She set her mind to it ... she got up, not caring where the garbage fell.  In fact, she didn't care about the stupid garbage at all.  Cliff can clean it up tomorrow. 
    Leaving her housecoat in the laundry room on the way in and kicking her slippers off, she headed straight for the shower.  She didn't care if she woke up the household.  Stupid garbage!  
    Minutes later, she slid back into bed, the aroma still in her nostrils.  Never again was she going to take the garbage out in the middle of the night! Stupid garbage!

15 - November 25

Topic: Who could imagine

     I don't remember what I wanted to be when I grew up.  Most of my friends wanted to get married and be a mommy but I didn't want that.  When people asked me, I didn't really have an answer ... one time, it was a geologist.  Another time, an astronomer.  And yet another, a writer.  And, to boot, I was lousy at math.  I had no idea.  And, my parents weren't any help.
     They say you become a product of your childhood, and if that's true, I've been fighting it for a long time.  Who could imagine that a life could become like this?
     I remember once, when I was young, my teacher wanted to get me tested.  She thought there was something special to me.  But my mother would have nothing of it.  On the drive home after talking to my teacher, she sneered at me, "You're not special, you know.  There's nothing special about you, so just get that out of your head." 
     It wasn't until some of my friends had come back from university for Christmas and they had invited me over for a gathering.  Reluctantly, my mother let me go, but only after I promised to clean the house and do the laundry the next day. 
     At this gathering, two of my friends were taking education and studying psychological testing.  They had been given a small IQ test, not completely accurate, but about 80% reliable.  They had been tested and decided that they would test the rest of us at this party.  So, I was given the test, with a blank piece of paper and a pencil.  I sat and did my best - there were 25 questions, all multiple choice.  All the others had finished and turned in their test and I was still on the last four.  I felt embarrassed.  Maybe I should just circle anything, I'm taking too long, I am always the slowest.  Instead, I took the test into the bathroom to concentrate better, and determined what I thought were the best answers.  I came out and gave Sherry the test. 
     Sherry and Nancy took the tests, marked them and returned.  Coming back, they were looking at me rather odd. 
     "What?" I asked.  "Did I do that bad?  I know it took me longer, but ..." my voice trailed off.
     "The scores were as follows: 101 for Matt, 122 for Lucy, 99 for David ... you didn't really try, did  you, Dave?" she laughed.  "And, for you, Jane, 150." 
     "What?" everyone turned to me.
     "Is that bad?  Can I do it again?  I can do better ..." I was not feeling well.  I should have stayed home.
     Sherry looked at me and smiled, "No, Janey, this is really good.  Really good.  In fact, it's the highest score I've ever seen."
    
     And now, almost 70 years later, I remember that moment clearly.  I remember it because I had something but I never did anything with it.  My father left us and my mother made sure I didn't leave.  I was afraid to tell her, because I knew what it would bring.  Days came and they went, and then one day she was gone, too.  I went from one small position to another, and now here I am.  You'd think that it would be like being let out of jail, but it wasn't like that.  I was so used to my confines that I continued my mother's mantra myself. 
      I have not seen another person in a week.  Tomorrow, my small bag of groceries will be delivered and then I will see someone, even if it is to give him payment.  Who could imagine that a person could live a life like this?  I had something but never used it.  I never had a dream or a goal, I never sang my song and I never lived.  I never knew what was possible.  And I have nothing to show that I even existed. 

14 - November 24

Topic: Write about a bathrobe.

     I opened the door to my small apartment at the end of the day one Friday in mid-December.  I had not put up my decorations yet and the first winter storm of the season had started in earnest that afternoon.  I felt immense gratitude the instant that my car pulled safely into my parking spot without an accident. Closing the door behind me, I stomped off the snow which had began to create a nice coat of its own between the car and my door.  A small snowdrift could be seen in a circle on the carpet around me.  I carefully stepped over it and pushed off my boots, knowing that the rug will soak most of the snow up when it melts and I'll worry about the rest later. 
     My apartment was silent and dark.  I checked my cell phone - nothing.  He had said he was going to come to visit tonight, but if he wasn't here by now and if he hadn't left a message, I didn't know if he was on his way or not.  I may as well give it a bit more time; after all, he's more daring with driving in weather like this than I am.
     I wasn't really hungry but man, was I cold!  The chill of the storm seemed to have done a good job of starting to take hold of my insides on the short walk from car to door.  Somehow I have to shake this bite I'm feeling.
     A bath.  That's what I would have - a bath.  And that would warm me up, for sure!  And I would make this my special treat.  After, I would figure out what happened to him.
     I headed into the bathroom.  I pulled the candles off the high shelf and positioned them along the edge of the bathtub and on the shelf that spreads across the tub.  I wouldn't light them until I was ready - I wanted to completely relax and start the weekend in a good place.  I turned on the bathwater, testing it to be that special sweet spot - hot but not so hot that I couldn't stand it.  Finding my favourite bubble bath and scented Calvin Klein bathsalts, I poured them in and the aroma burst forth. 
     I went back and checked my door: the main lock was turned but the secondary chain one was not.  Good.  I was safe and if he came while I was in the bathtub, he could easily get in with his key.  I went into the kitchen and poured myself a glass of wine and found the lighter to take with me.
      Turning out all the lights in the apartment, save the reading light in the living room, I walked into the bathroom and turned off the taps.  Lighting the lighter, I lit the candles around the bath, on the counter, and the two on the bath shelf.  The glass of wine was positioned in between.  The room took on a golden glow and the wine took on the quality of deep blood red. 
     Almost reverently, I took my clothes off.  So often I had avoided looking at my naked self in the mirror, disgusted with what I saw, but this time, with the golden wash over everything, I resolved to honour my self instead.  I stood naked, avoiding the mirror again, and breathed in.  I felt the golden sheer play on the curves of my body.  Help me love my self; help me love all of my self, I prayed.
     The bathtub was almost overflowing with bubbles - they looked like a million little candle sparkles!  I carefully pushed through the bubbles, trying hard not to disturb them too much, and my toe touched the blissfully lusciously warm water.  Slowly, I felt the almost-hot water encase my foot, over my foot to my calf ... heaven!  I repeated the same with my other leg.  Very carefully, little by little, I slid into the heat, letting it envelope me and begin to push the cold away. 
     With a bit of an awkward dance (I chuckled to myself - thank goodness there was no video focused on me now!), I slowly figured out, with a few false attempts, how to slide into the bath, keeping the candles lit and my wine glass upright.  When I finally settled with my back on the pillow, the still-full wine glass in front of me, I breathed a sigh of relief and let the hot water begin to work its magic.

    
    

13 - November 23

Topic: "When we left for ___"

     The day dawned cold and blustery the day we left for the mountain.  I was probably the least experienced of our group, but I was by no means ignorant.  I got into running over the last year and did a lot of mountain hiking and some minor climbs, both day and overnight.  But, I feel nothing prepared me for the Monster of all Mountains: Tsangpa Gyare.
     The beginning path was relatively easy, the path was walk-able, weaving in between the rocks and trees.  We came to a bit of a clearing, the path coming to a huge precipice.  We gathered at the edge and peered over.  The bottom was obscured in the haze of a fog, where was the bottom?  Naropa picked up a rock the size of a large fist and threw it over.  We listened.  Seconds ticked by, feeling like minutes, and finally, an echo, a faint 'ping'.  It would be easier to think that there was no bottom.
     Darkyi asked, "What are we going to do?  How are we going to get across?"
     I looked towards our leader.  Drogon stood there, in his thick coat, pondering their next move.  "I seem to remember a bridge here somewhere.  Naropa, you head up the precipice a ways and Tulkku, you head down.  We will wait here until you return with news.  Let us hope we can camp where the bridge meets the land tonight.  The rest of us will prepare our packs for the remaining part of the journey."
     I turned to my companion.  "Tamsin, what is this about?  I thought we were part of a trek that was going to climb the mountain."
     "I don't think I follow you, Justine.  That is what this group is doing."
     "What does he mean, 'prepare our packs for the journey'? Don't we have everything we need? If we are going to make it to the base-camp, won't we need everything we have?" I asked her.
     "Maybe he's talking to the others.  Maybe they have extra things that will just weigh them down," Tamsin offered.
     I took my water bottle out of my backpack and took a long drought. 
     "Please come join us," Drogon called to Tamsin and me.
     "Coming!" my friend called out and we re-joined the rest.
     "Naropa and Tulkku will be back soon.  Let's go through our packs and make sure we have what we need, get rid of what we don't need and maybe balance out the rest so we each carry about the same amount," our leader informed us.  "Now, let us unpack our packs and see what we have here."
     I looked around at the small group.  People were opening their bags and starting to take out the contents.  I saw the usual - warm clothing layers, dry socks, freeze-dried food in burnable containers. Then, Tamsin nudged me.
     I looked at her and she motioned towards Darkyi and I re-directed my gaze.  He was taking out something that looked very heavy and very dangerous.  The little man beside him was taking out something similar but with chains and spikes. Tamsin and I looked at each other with definite concern in our eyes.
     Drogon then spoke, "Darkyi, I see that you and Maloch are prepared."
     "Prepared for what, sir?" I asked.
     "There are things that you will meet on this journey that are not completely of this world nor of this time," Drogon spoke in mystery.  "We need to be ready to meet these if we wish to complete the journey."
     "HO! Master!" a voice came through the trees in the direction that Tulkku had gone a while ago. "Bridge!"
     Drogon picked up what looked like a funnel and called out in both directions, "Return!"
     We finished emptying our packs and with a little bit of re-balancing, we were almost ready to go when our two scouts returned.  The wind had begun to pick up, it would be quite chilly and almost dark by the time we reached the base of the bridge, making camp set-up to be somewhat difficult.  I refuse to complain because I think things will get much worse before the trip is over.
     "Before we head for the bridge, I need to know - did anyone bring the Sparkling Glass?" Drogon asked as he looked around the group.
     No one spoke up.
     "No one?  That cannot be.  One of you was given the instructions to bring the Sparkling Glass," Drogon became more intense.
     "Why do we need this ... this ... Sparkling Glass?" I asked.
     Drogon looked at me, "Oh Miss! We will only be able to go so far without the Glass.  And, we will definitely not all return safely!"
     "Pardon?" Tamsin asked.
     "Och!" Maloch growled out, "little lady, what do you think Tsangpa Gyare means?  The Monster isn't called that for nothin'"
     I was getting a little nervous.  Tamsin and I had come here for a different kind of holiday.  We wanted to do something different.  We didn't want to risk our lives. "What do you mean?"
     Senge, the smallest of the group, a boy I thought no older than 10 or 12, looked around at his companions.  Drogon nodded slightly.
     In broken English, he spoke, sending chills to my soul.  "Tsangpa Gyare ... dragon ... not story - real."

    

12 - November 22

Topic: Stopping to look in a window

     The old man shuffled down the street, being careful to stay out of the way of the bustle and hustle around him, making sure that he didn't make eye contact with anyone.  People were scurrying everywhere - with bags and boxes, with wrappings and decorations.  'Tis the season and it was just another day for Walter.  They were all just another day since he couldn't remember.  His coat was ragged, full of holes, and his shoes had the soles lifting.  There was a positive thing about this time of the year - the shelter had a good dinner on Christmas and if things got really cold, they would try to find a place to sleep.  But mostly, everything blurred together.
     He walked past a shop and paused to look in the window.  It was a coffee bar, and every table was full.  People were getting their drinks and pastries, waving at friends and settling down to share holidays complaints and frustrations.  He heard wisps of conversation through the window - too cold, too many people, did you see the lineups at Nordstroms? can hardly wait for the holiday to Cuba, Joe is not spending enough time, what should I get Nancy for Christmas ... and on and on. 
     Walter stood there.  There was something wrong with this.  Wasn't anyone happy with what they had?  How could they not see all they had?
     "Hey! Old man!  Move along!  Get going!" a voice came out of the door accompanied by a curly red-headed young man. 
     "Uh ... Mister ... dd-d-do you have any d-d-dday-old f-f-f-food?" Walter stuttered.
     "Hahaha!  Get the ffff-f-f-f-ck outta here! You're ruining bbb-b-business!" the young man mimicked Walter.
     Walter turned away just as he saw the kid bend over to pick up a handful of snow and throw it at him.  "I'm gg-g-going," he muttered.

     Late that night found Walter in the alley he claimed as his own.  It wasn't really but it had a little corner, out of the way, where he kept old blankets and fabric and things he could use for warmth.  The night was getting little colder than normal when he turned the corner into his home. 
     "Who are you?  Get out of here!" a voice came from the pile of things in the corner.
     "Th-th-th-that's my corner!" Walter hesitantly spoke out.
     "Not any more, old man1  You weren't here when I got here, you won't here much longer! Get going!"
     Two times in one night ... this really is the season of good will! Walter thought to himself.  Now what is he going to do? It's too late to go to the shelter, it would be full already.  His corner was taken, and it was getting colder. He turned and left his home. What a joke.

11 - November 21

Topic: It was made by hand.

     I've always wanted to learn how to quilt.  There is something about a task that has been around for as long as women sewed that appeals to me for some reason.  Using up left over old clothing to make into a blanket to keep warm on winter's nights, the thrift in me finds appealing.  The last stage for clothing in the recycling path of life: they either become a rag or a quilt.
     But in today's day, clothing goes to second hand stores, to the Good Will, to the homeless.  Not that bad of an alternative (especially for coats - can you imagine a quilt made from your ski-jacket?), and certainly needed by various groups.  And yet, there is something in me that longs to make a quilt.
     I think this will be the year.  I've done a  bit of sewing already (a button back on, a ripped hem), so I'm sure I can manage this.  Besides, it's just squares and straight sewing, isn't it?  Maybe I should take a beginner class to be sure.
     You see, as much as I want to make a quilt for myself, I also want to make one for my sister's children.  I never had children of my own and there is something about leaving behind something that will last long after you're gone that is a longing within me. And, if I make the quilt right - with a pattern on the top that the person connects to coupled with a soft flannel under that is cozy and warm, maybe the quilt will go with them everywhere they go in life.  I think that's the difference between something bought at the store and something made by hands that love them and pick things just for them.  Maybe, they will be ready to pass on when they graduate.  Wouldn't that be a lovely graduation gift for them?  Maybe earlier.
     There's a quilting store near me - perhaps I should stop in and see what kind of classes they offer, the costs, and such.  After all, I need to start small!  A table-runner, perhaps. And other small projects until I find the pattern for each of them.  I'd like to make myself 2 different bedroom ensembles - one for summer, one for winter.  I'd like to make gifts for friends - something for them to remember me after I'm gone.

 My one niece is pretty artistic, loves to dance and sing and flutter about the world.  The quilt on the side reminds me of her, but I'd have to do it in her favourite colours - aqua and pink.  Don't you think that would be pretty?  I can imagine her going to university and taking it with her, adorning her bed, snuggling under it and studying, pulling it over her head when she has her first break-up.  And all the while, she knows when she pulls it around her that I love her.

And this one would be for my other niece - she's a little scientist.  Right now she's too young to understand the Fibonacci spiral, but when she does, she'd see that she has her own that will go with her wherever she wants. There are many amazing things about mathematics, of which this is one, and how it plays out in the world around us can be truly awe-inspiring.  These colours would be perfect for her. Purples - the only colour that appears in the natural world for the sake of beauty.


     So, that is my dream.  A dream that I know is possible to come true.  Even in our day of instant gratification; if you want something, go to the store and buy it; if it breaks, throw it out and get another; I am determined to make something that does not happen instantly and will last long after I'm gone.
     Now, to find that store and start simple ...

10 - November 20

Topic: "Who can say at what point dying begins?"

     The time was almost here.  Madeline lay in her bed, knowing that the moment was nigh.  As she lay there, her eyes wandered around the room.  She smiled, for she saw him in the corner.  He was waiting.
     She was alone.  She always knew it was going to be like this, no matter how she tried to change it.  Looking back over her life, she pondered the people who passed through, the events she experienced.  At what point did the end begin?  At what point did she give up?
     Or, maybe it was that she never started?  No, there were good times, full times.  And yet ...
     Madeline remembered reading a quote long ago: "When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left, and could say, 'I used everything you gave me.'" She's not sure that she can say that.  
     She turned to the man in the corner.  "Can you hear me?" she whispered.  The man came forth and gently took her hand.  
     "I'm sorry I got lost.  I don't know what I was waiting for, but the time never felt right.  And then things started to go wrong, and I just didn't have the energy.  I didn't know how I was supposed to get through?
     What did I do wrong?  Everyone I know lived a life so different than mine, and I could not do it alone.  It's like everything I wanted, I had briefly but was taken from me.  Why?  What was I supposed to learn from that?  What was I supposed to do?" Her eyes were filled with tears, and her throat constricted in anguish. 
     "It's not for me to say. Do not worry."
     "This is not about worrying.  This is about not living fully, about using the gifts I was given, about making a difference.  I feel that I did none of that."
     "Madeline, the way you see things is not always the way things were.  What you want is not always what happens, but that doesn't mean that you didn't get what you wanted." 
     Madeline's eyes filled with tears.  "I'm scared."
     "There's no need.  The promises are true."
     She remembered the moment.  The moment she gave up.  "I'm sorry," she whispered as the tears rolled down her cheeks.
     "You were redeemed long ago and are forgiven.  Come home." 

9 - November 19

Topic: You're in a hotel room.

     I slid the card through the door lock and automatically opened the door.  I couldn't believe I had made it; that was the worst snow storm I have ever driven through.  I almost missed the hotel as I inched my way through the white town.  I had another day's drive ahead of me but due to the weather, I decided to stop here for the night. I couldn't really afford it, as I was planning to drive through the night to reach the city, but this couldn't be helped.
     Pulling in to the parking lot, cars covered with snow, I almost could imagine what it might have been like for Mary and Joseph on that cold winter night.  Oh - wait - that was spring.  Nothing like this! But I did feel odd stomping my way into the lobby. Probably looked like a Yeti!!  And, thankfully, they had a room.  They even gave me a discount!
     I dragged my luggage in after me and flopped down, arms spread, on the second bed, coat and all.  Honestly, that was crazy.  I just wanted to lay there and fall asleep.  I rolled over and looked at the clock.
     It was 2:00 in the afternoon.  I groaned. Ok, I muttered.
     I sat up, breathed a few times and stood.  May as well make myself comfortable and then head out to see if there was a restaurant nearby.  This was not part of the plan.
   
     After I unpacked, I made my way back to the lobby and found out that (thankfully) there was a restaurant within quick running distance from the doors of the hotel and that it was open for an hour more.  I opened the door and immediately closed it again.  What was I thinking?  It was a raging blizzard out there!  I stared out into the swirling white wall of snow and  realized I was starting to get hungry.  I turned back to the young kid behind the counter.
     "Do you know if they deliver?  If any place in town would deliver on a day like this?" I asked.
     "I'm not sure, Lady, but if you want, I'll be off in ten minutes and I can get you something.  It's bad out there, but I've been out in worse," he smiled at me. 
     "That would be great!" I smiled back.  I would go myself but with my luck, I'd get lost coming back and end up freezing to death in a snowdrift behind the hotel within feet from the door and I wouldn't know where I was.
     "How about I come up and see you after I'm done here?" his youthful charm showed through.
     "Perfect!" I said and returned to the elevator and subsequently, my room. 

,

8 - November 18

Topic: Beyond the confines of ordinary language

     She walked into the room and immediately knew he was there.  It was something she could not put into words but every time he manifest himself, she knew it. 
     The staff room was full of students - lounging in chairs, drawing on the blackboard, playing cards at the table.  She did a quick head-count: about twenty-four, she figured.  A good number.
     "Can I have your attention?" she called out above the din.
     Twenty-four voices hushed and turned towards her.
     "Good afternoon,  you wonderful people! I'm Miss Bentley and I'm going to be your teacher for public speaking and we get to have class in the teachers' lounge - how cool is that?" She gave them a big smile.
     "Why are we here?" a small girl asked.
     "Your name, please?" Kate Bentley asked.
     "Oh, I'm Sharon," the girl smiled back.
     "Well, Sharon, it's because all the other classrooms are full ... we really had a big enrollment this year and I think everyone's envious of us, don't you think?"
     "Yeah, yeah, I guess so," Sharon nodded her head.  The rest of the class seemed to like the idea.
     "So, let's get to know each other," Kate said.  "Let's get the chairs in a circle and we're going to do a few memory activities.  Get you used to speaking and see how well your memory works under pressure.  We'll just have to replace everything as it was after so no one complains."
     The students got up and moved the sofas and chairs into a haphazard circle, and she began her class.
     As they continued through the activity, she watched them closely, making eye contact as often as possible, and holding it to see their reaction.  She knew he was there, she just didn't know in which student.  And not knowing was never a good thing.
     A boy introduced himself as Dylan and attempted to repeat the names and favourite foods back, and he stumbled over Jessie and Jessica.  Everyone was having trouble with them, unless they knew the two girls.  And Dylan was no different.  Everyone gave him some good-natured ribbing over it.  At that point, the bell rang.
     Kate clapped her hands three times - "Please help replace the chairs and sofas!" she called out.  The students all got up and began moving things back into place.
     As they were filing out of the room, moving on to their next class, a student came around the corner from the kitchen area and stood in her way.
     "Ms Bentley," he said with a smile.
     Trying to remember his name, she turned towards him.  Josh, she thought.
     "Yes, Josh?" she said.
     In that instant, the second their eyes connected, she knew ... this was him.  The attack was almost palpable, but only she could feel it and Josh was oblivious to it.  It was as if something left Josh's body and zeroed in on her, screaming her name, cursing her spirit.
     "I know who you are," he slithered his message to her.
     Kate was frozen in place.  The entity was swirling around her, laughing and attacking her with thoughts, with hatred, with evil.  She was not ready for this and could not fight back.
     "We will meet again, when the time is right," he hissed in her ear while all the time, Josh benignly smiled at her, in a daze.  "You won't win this, I promise you!" and he left with Josh.
     She sank to the floor, her head feeling like it was crushed and she was unable to stand.

7 - November 17

Topic: Write about learning to swim

     Liz stood at the edge of the swimming pool.  Whatever made her think she could do this?
     She looked at the swirling water and the thoughts that came rushing back to her.  The boat.  Her brother.  A day of fishing and it ended so bad.
     The afternoon was warm, not hot but nice enough to grab their fishing poles and rush down to the lake.  They had done this a million times - on the weekend, after school.  And this was like all those other times.  First, they scrambled in the dirt near the water where it was loose and good for bugs.  Once each of them had 2 bugs, preferably one an earthworm, they ran down and jumped into the old rowboat that was kept at the side.  If she was the last one, Tom, her brother would help her out so they always went to the boat equal.
     And then the race was one - who would be the first one to get a fish?  Tom had got two of the last three and she had been so excited when she snagged the four inch little fish the last time.  Tom was almost as excited as she was!
     As they worked at snagging the first fish, they talked, about everything they could think of:  mom's sadness; why dad didn't come home; what they wanted to do this summer; if one got some money, what would they buy; what did they want to do when they grew up.
     "Tommy?" Liz hesitantly asked.
     "Yeah?" he answered.
     "My friend Frida asked me about you today.  Why would she do that?" Liz wondered.
     "What did she ask?" her brother responded.
     "She wanted to know if you had a ... a ..."
     "A what?"
     "A girlfriend.   Tommy, what's a girlfriend?"
     "What did you say?" Tom ignored her question.
     "I said that I didn't know."
     "That was a good answer."
     "You didn't answer my question," Liz let out an exasperated huff and stood up to face her brother.
     At that instant, her fishing pole pulled and as her attention was elsewhere, she wasn't expecting it.  It pulled her off balance and, in an instant, she went overboard. Liz barely had time to scream before she went under and gulped in water as the pole pulled her down.
     She honestly didn't know what happened - the next thing she knew, she was resting in the bottom of the boat, lightly drifting on the lake.  Alone.  She opened her eyes and saw the bright light coming towards her.
     "Elizabeth!  Thomas!" the voice came across the still water.
     "Here! Over here!" she tried to call out but it came out like a croak.   Liz felt around her and found a stick.  Even if she could hit the side of the boat a couple of times, she was sure they would hear her.
     It worked. It wasn't long before the people in the rescue boat made their way towards the sound.  It Noah and Matthew, two of their neighbors, and they helped her into their boat, wrapping her in a warm blanket and giving her a container of water.
     "Where is Thomas?" Matthew asked.
     "I don't know.  Isn't he with you?" Liz breathed out
     "You're not well, dear; stay quiet and we'll be back home soon," Noah hushed her.
   
      What followed was a nightmare and Liz couldn't help but blame herself.  She felt like it happened yesterday: she knew what she was wearing, she knew what Tommy was wearing.  She could still see the look in his eyes before all went dark.  Yesterday, wasn't it?  In fact, it was much longer than that. Much longer.
      She had stayed away from water ever since.  She never went fishing again, she never went to the beach, she never went in a hot tub, she never went to the pool with her friends.  If her children wanted to go, she would either send them with someone else or come up with something else for them to do.  She just couldn't bear the memories ... until now.
   
      The moment had come.  She could not go back.  She needed to face it and go for it.  She didn't know how to swim the last time she went into the water, she really didn't know much more this time.  But she did as she was told - take a deep breath, hold it, reach out her arms and jump.
    And jump.
    She felt the warmish water swoosh over her and her head stayed above.
    And in that instant, the small crowd that were around her broke out into whooping and cheering.
    She stood up and turned around, the water came up to her chest and gently splashed into her face.  And looked at all who were there for her.  Her 4 children, her 6 grandchildren and her one great grand child, born a month ago.
    As simple as it was, she had faced her fear, all those memories, and won.
    "Thank you, Tommy," she whispered.
   

     
    

6 - November 16

Topic: At the end of the journey

     His vehicle slowly came to a stop. Klaas carefully rose up, got out of his vehicle and stretched.  Every year, the journey seemed to be longer and longer.  And this year, something was definitely different.
     "Oh, my, Klaas!" Marta, his wife came fussing through the door.  "You look like you're ready for a good rest!"  She came over with a warm shall to drape over his shoulders and escort him into their small cottage.
     "Marta, there was something different this year, something I've never felt before," Klaas pondered to his wife.
     "Not now, dear.  First, let's get some food into you.  Something hot and healthy and that will stick to your ribs.  I'm sure what you've been eating on this last trip wasn't the best for you!" she smiled and opened the door.  "Jimmy and Timmy will take care of your vehicle and the rest of things for you."
    
     Klaas always did like his wife's cooking.  She made the best stew and biscuits around, and he even had third helpings this time!  And then her apple pie ... heaven!  she really outdid herself this year! 
     He sat in his favourite chair, quite content, taking in the moment. 
     "Now, what did you mean, dear, that something was different this year?"  she opened the subject
     "Marta, I think my days are over.  I don't think they need me anymore," Klaas sighed.
     "What do you mean?" Marta got a concerned look on her face. " There will always be a need for you.  What is Christmas without you?"
     "Marta, that's it.  See, they have so many things that they have lost what giving is all about.  It's lost the meaning - it's all about getting.  I can't compete with the technology, the gizmos and gadgets, the iPods and iPads and iPuddles and whatever other "I" thing they want this year," Klaas paused.
     "Why don't you sleep on it, dear.  You'll think differently in the morning.  Besides, it's another year before you have to go out again," she consoled.
     "Another year to get worse," he breathed.

     Klaas lay in bed, covered with the warmest of feather blankets, wondering what to do now.  He knew things were in a very bad state; not only for himself and his future, but for the future of much more than that. He may have just come to the end of a journey, the end of his part in Christmas.

5 - November 15

Topic - "An unspoken hunger"

     Kathrine sat on her sofa, in the dark, breathing steadily.  Her head was exploding with thoughts at the same time she was quiet. The thing though, quiet was comfortable and the time for comfort was long gone.  She had to do something ... or die trying. 
     She looked over at her suitcase all packed at the door. It held inside everything she would need, and items of value were secured in her smaller bag propped up against the suitcase.  She took one more look around at the immaculate apartment, not sure if she'd ever come back.  Her phone beeped - her cab was here.  She got off the sofa and picked up her luggage.  If she never came back, there was a note on the kitchen table to call her cousin; she would give everything to her cousin because she would not need anything anymore.
     This was not a suicide mission or throwing her life away.  She had thought hard about the hole in her soul and longed to do something to bring peace and fulfillment to that hunger. She wanted her life to mean something and had come to the point to make it count.  Again, she was not throwing her life away, but rather making her life count. 

     "Miz Kat-rin?" the elderly black man asked as he approached her in the airport waiting room.  She had been sitting there for a bit, wondering what she had just done.  One minute, the room around her was an explosion of colour as people greeted their friends and family, the next minute, it was hot and brown and empty, with only the sound of insects buzzing through the air.  The heat was different than she had ever experienced before - hot and dry.
     "Yes, that is me," I said and rose, stretching out my hand to the man.
     "We so glad you come; things are bad and we need you," he said to me.
     "I'm glad to be here, too.  I hope that I can help in some way," I responded.
     "One girl come back and she very sick," he shook his head, as he picked up her suitcase.
     "No, no!  I can take that!" I reached for my own bag.
     "Then let me take small one," he reached for my shoulder bag.
     I passed that over with a smile.  "Thank you," I said.
     He led me to the door and as it slid open, I was hit with a blast of hot air like I never felt before.  The wall of heat was almost tangible as I walked from the hot waiting room into the oven outside.
     I had arrived and begun my destiny.  I know I was meant to do this, I was prepared and ready.
     "Show me the way to the orphanage, please," I smiled at my companion.
     "Yes, Miz Kat-trin.  We walk here," he said and set out in front of me.

4 - November 14

Topic: Three Days of Hard Freeze

     The snow started Friday night.  I went to a movie and when I came out, there was at least six inches of snow covering my car.  Thankfully I had taken mittens in with me, but not a warm coat, and man! had the temperature dropped since I entered the theatre about 3 hours ago.  I could see a bit of wind starting in the falling snow and knew I better get home.
     When I opened the door at home, I was sure the temperature had dropped another 10 degrees.  The wind was starting in earnest and I wasn't sure if there was still snow falling or if the wind was making good use of what had already come down.  I grabbed my coat and headed straight for my home.  I knew we were going to get a bit of snow; I didn't realize we were in for a storm.
     Closing the door firmly and stopping up the bottom of the door with a towel, I shook my jacket off, kicked my snow-covered shoes off and headed for the shower.  Later, curled up on the sofa with a hot cup of tea, I felt much better.  I guess the weekend ahead was going to be another solitary one.
     I woke up on Sunday morning, feeling something had changed.  I had not poked my nose outside all weekend but did watch the news and check the temperature regularly.  The snowfall from Friday had stopped but the wind had not.  And the temperature drop was no fleeting moment.  We hit temperatures Saturday that we hadn't seen for decades, and today was supposed to be colder.  And something was different.
     And then I saw it - my breath.  The temperature inside my home had dropped enough for me to see my own breath!
     "This is not a good sign," I whispered to myself.
     Under the blankets I was toasty warm, but when I excused my hand, I could feel that my nose was quite cold.  What had happened?
     I carefully slid out from under the covers and grabbed my housecoat and slippers.  They were both cold enough to give me a shiver, but thankfully, it was short-lived.  I schlepped into the bathroom and turned on the lights ... nothing.  I tried again - no light.  No electricity.  What a day for that to happen!
     It hit me - no electricity means no heat, no cooking, no nothing.  Would the hot water still work?  I turned on the taps and nothing came through.  "Don't tell me something else happened," I sighed.
     Back in my bedroom, I put on layers of warm clothes.  My only solution was to leave here until the cold broke, so as warm as I could dress before heading out into the blizzard that still was raging around my small home.  I added a parka, boots, scarf and mitts and opened the door.  I was stopped in my tracks.
     The snow had blown up against the door until it was chest high.  I was not going to be able to get out that way.  I went to the back door ... and I couldn't even open that door.  It was frozen shut.  A window? Every window I tried was frozen shut and some were even so covered in snow that I could not see out.  I was house-bound in a way that I never had been before.
     The phone ... no, that wouldn't work; computer neither.  My cell!  I always plug that in before going to bed ... I would certainly have some energy there! 
     I took my coat and boots off and went into my bedroom.  There was my cell on the nightstand - I grabbed it and turned it on.  30% ?? how was that possible?  And then I saw that the cord had disconnected at some point during the night.  Well ... at least there is something!  I turned the phone on and dialed 911.  An automated message came on saying that there was a higher than normal call ratio at that moment and the wait time was about 90 min.
     Ninety minutes?  on a 911 line?? That's ridiculous!  I hung up.  Better to save my 30% than waste it waiting.
     Suddenly I thought - my camp stove and the propane for that.  At least I could make myself a cup of tea! I hauled it out and got it going.  The first sip of that hot nectar was almost heaven!
     As I sat there, I started to think of who I should call to help me out.  My neighbor; they were a young couple and would easily be able to help me out.  I dialed their number.  After 4 rings, I got their answering machine.  I left a message and moved on to a friend that lived nearby.  Another answering machine.  After 4 more attempts, all resulting in answering machines, I was starting to get a little worried ... not only were people not answering their phones but my energy in my cell was now reading 15%.  I sat on my sofa, empty tea cup in hand ... not knowing what to do now. 
     The internet!  I could do a quick search on my phone to find a police station phone number or a fire station or a store even, and call them.  I put my phone on and hit the browser icon.  "The Internet is temporarily unavailable.  Please try again" it said.
     My stomach sank as my phone beeped.  5% left.

3 - November 13

Topic: Write about waking up

for so long, Dark surrounded me
embrace me, seduced me
held me strong in his arms

but abuse does not to hit only with a fist, seeking to break and destroy
control and oppress - Dark has many tricks to hold one down.
And you don't even see it, you don't even see it coming ... until it's too late.

where did it start? with a word? with a look? with a touch?
when did it grow? over that weekend? throughout that holiday?
until I see no more.  until Dark consumes me and damns me

i gave up. i forfeit the fight. it is done.
i have failed.  i cannot save myself and i let go.

as i lay there, in cold Dark, broken, lost, dead, a point slices through
a piece of Light, enters and dances and the Dark cannot stop it
in anger, Dark submits to giving stage to Light,
only in the middle of Dark can the dance of Light be seen.

it frolics, it shimmers, it swirls and sparkles
i watch from my prone state
oh, what beauty! how can this exquisite piece of Light come here?
why here? why now? why me?

the piece of Light tiptoes up to me and lights on my hand
it whispers - Come, follow me. Come dance with me.
I came for you to live fully, completely, joyfully, abundantly
Come, I shall give you strength, I shall give you life.

and the piece of Light kissed my cheek,
and, like rising from a restless night's sleep,
breathing in, i stretched.
the glow of the Light grew, until the Dark was pushed out 

"I come," I said with a smile.  I was reborn. 

2 - November 12

Topic: Relics of a distant past

     She stood at the top of the stairs and looked around at the surrounding doorways  The dust lay thick upon the banister and any surface she could see.  Sarah pulled out the piece of paper from her pocket and opened it for the millionth time.  The pattern scribbled on the sheet seemed to become significant - she turned it this way and that.  Suddenly, it made sense! the pattern reflected the pattern in the ancient floor and doorways in front of her! the star pointed to the door ... she stepped towards the second door on her right and reached for the dusty door knob.
     The door opened easily enough and with a painful creak, it lurched inward, opening into the room.  There, on the far wall, was the most incredible dresser she had ever seen!  The mirror, streaked with dust, the surface layered ... it was bare and empty but hearkened back to a time long ago.  Sarah could easily imagine a distant relative sitting in front, getting ready for some event, prepping her hair ...
     She shook her head.  Yes, she was here for the dresser, but more, she was here for what the dresser held. Sarah approached the antique and opened the bottom drawer.  Empty.  She opened the drawer beneath it.  Empty again.  That couldn't be.  She opened the first one again and reached in.  Something was odd.  She tried to pull the drawer out but it wouldn't come.  She reached inside again and felt a little clasp at the top of the back wall of the drawer.  Carefully she slide it sideways with her finger and the back of the drawer fell forward - she could feel the box inside!

1 - November 11

Topic: The blue of pool water

     He crouched motionless in the greenery, watching the back sliding door for the slightest of moments.  The backyard was impeccable: a blanket of soft grass, cleanly trimmed trees and shrubs, the pool deck a perfect white ring dotted with lounge chairs in bright colours around the bluest of blue kidney-shaped pools.  It was all he could do from crashing and invading the serenity in front of him.  Yet here he sat ... waiting. Without a movement. Without a sound.
     Inside the home, came sounds of clatter - cutlery rattling, drawers opening and closing and soft humming.  Every so often, a shape could be seen behind the glass door but it never approached the exit.  That's what he was waiting for.  That was to be his signal.
     His eyes were focused on the door but his mind listened to the sounds around - some yelling in the distance, the pop of a backfiring vehicle, a slight drone far away.  He knew his buddies were stationed in silence around the area, all waiting for their individual signals.  His mind wandered back to the pool, the twinkling blue he saw between the thick foliage that surrounded him. Had someone walked within inches of him, they would not see him, he blended so well with his surroundings.
     But that pool, that yard!  It stood out like a diamond in the middle of a garbage dump! Clearly the people who lived in this house were not ordinary people, like their neighbours around them. He knew that, those that sent him knew that ... that is why he was waiting here.
     Suddenly, the relative quiet was broken by a loud bang - the front door to the home.  A youthful shout came from inside, and answering greeting.  Any time now ... any moment now ...

A Sample ... November 10

So ... I turn off all distractions and set my timer for 20 min.
The prompt for 10-Nov is "We took it to go." 
I hit the timer ... and start writing ...

   "Bev, I don't know if I can wait much longer," Kathy fidgeted at the table.
   "What do you mean, Kathy?  You work so hard and they take you for granted.  You can take the time," her friend responded.
   "I don't know ... yes, I seem to work more than they pay me for, but I can't.  It wouldn't seem right.  How long have we been waiting for our order?  It's almost time to go back to work!"
   "Kath, you need to loosen up," Bev sighed. 
   "Another time ... not now," Kathy was getting a bit worried.  "Excuse me! Excuse me, sir!" she called the waiter over.  "Could we please take our lunch to go?  Our lunch time is almost over and we need to get back to work."
   "Oh yes, ma'am.  Sorry ma'am.  Will bring it to the counter," the young waiter said.
   "Kathy, we really need to work on you," Bev said with an exasperated groan as she slid off her chair, picked up her coat and purse and started towards the cashier.
   Kathy grabbed her items and followed her.  Approaching the counter, she took her wallet out. "Here, Bev, I'll pay for yours.  I'm really sorry," she said as she passed her credit card to the waiter.
   "You don't have to do that," Bev said with a tinge of remorse in her voice.
   Kathy smiled at her, "If you feel bad, then you can get the bill the next time." 
   The two girls picked up their bagged lunches, made their way out the door and headed across the parking lot to their office on the other side of the street. 

   "Do you have plans for the weekend?" Kathy asked her friend. "I'm thinking of taking in a movie but am not sure which one to go to."
   "I don't know.  Ben and I don't go out much.  I think the last time we saw a movie in the theatre was when we went to see The Avengers.  And that was forever ago!" Bev said.
    Kathy slowed ... "Bev, is that Catherine at the door? I wonder what she's doing there?
    Bev slowed also and looked to the person behind the door.  "Yeah, that looks like her."
    Kathy felt Bev go tense beside her.
    The two girls neared the door and their supervisor pushed the door open for them. 
    "Bev, I need to talk to you in my office right now," she said in a neutral voice.
    "Do you want me to wait for you?" Kathy offered.
    "No, you should go back to work," Catherine answered for her.

A New Experiment ...

Another 100 Day Challenge draws to an end … and what are my thoughts now?  Have I experienced success?  Yes … in some concrete ways and in some concept ways … but I’m not content with the results.  I’m not sure how I’m feeling right now, I am not feeling particularly successful but I know that this has made me aware of things.  I know that I have change … heck, took on a life-long medical problem, lost my job and got a new one since Day 1 of Round 2  And yet, I I don’t feel like I’ve gotten much further than at the end of the last 100 days.  


Yes, I know that I’ve come through a very difficult year, and it’s not over yet, an yet ….  I’ve had a lot of verbal support from friends and I know people are concerned, but I miss human touch.  I just read an article called “22 Habits of Unhappy People” and it concerned me the number of habits, according to this article, I have (both known to others and known to myself).  I don’t think of myself as unhappy but I know that I often am.  Maybe, these 22 habits I can work at turning around?  I don’t know … think about and address …

So, I bring this 100 Day Challenge to an end.  Between now and December 31 are exactly 50 days.  One area of concern I have noticed is a difficulty in focusing on the item consistently every day.  With work taking up 13 hours of my day, and 3-4 hours until going to bed to do it again, I am having difficulty.  I know teaching was worse, and I can’t fathom how I managed that.  I want to still accomplish something and I don’t know how to do it in 3-4 hours a day and I just don't know how I'm going to do it.

So, I have come up with an idea.   

For the next 50 days, I’m going to try something different.  All the items I’ve been doing, I’m going to take a break from them.  For 50 days, I resolve to focus on one thing – yes, I will do other things, but for this Challenge, my focus will be one thing only:  to write every day. 

Here are the parameters I’m going to follow:

• I’m not going to miss a day.  Each item will be written on each consecutive day, so there will be 50 entries written on 50 different days.
• I have a book called A Writer’s Book of Days which I will use – it gives a prompt for every day of the year and so I will use that prompt for that day to write. 
• I will set my timer for 20 min, shut off all distractions and focus on writing for that time. The only option I have is to write an additional 10 min if needed.  It’s not about finishing a story, it’s about doing something consecutively every day.
• What will I write?  Something creative – the beginning of a story, the end of a story, something from my own life, something created, something I heard.  A poem, a piece of prose.  It will not be a report nor an essay, but something akin to a story.  I will not say the source, so if it is written in “I” (first person), it may or may not be “my” story.  The main character might be a male, it might be a child, it might be an old woman, it might be an animal.  The only limitation I’m putting on it is that it will not be x-rated.  No sex-tales or vivid violence here. 
• After writing for 50 days, with the last writing on December 31, I will determine the next 100 Day Challenge.  It is my hope that if the momentum of focus on one thing and a 50-day daily tending to this focus solely, I can transfer this to something else.

It’s worth a try anyway.

Do … or do not.  There is no try. 

Let's see where this one takes me.