Precious Memories: The Cycle of Giving and Receiving_Silence for Ralph Smiley_Why Can't We Soar_
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Precious Memories: The Cycle of Giving and Receiving
I had just returned from dropping my daughter off for her first day of kindergarten. She wore a cute little blue denim jumper with an elephant embroidered on the front over a red long-sleeved T-shirt and red sneakers to match. She was adorable and so excited about starting school. I was excited too, until the ride back home when I cried like a baby because my sweet girl was growing up and making her first big move from being constantly in my care. Oh she had gone to some mom’s day out programs, but those didn’t count as they didn’t happen every day or even every week. Starting today, she would...
Silence for Ralwww.onedoor.ccph Smiley
Ralph Smiley confidently looked in the mirror. His upcoming novel was going to make him financially secure, and his hidden talent as a writer would finally be revealed to the ruthless world. He smiled at himself and straightened his collar. People were going to be shocked, especially the ones who thought he was slow. Finally, after all this time, he would have the last laugh. For the past 30 years Smiley had worked hard at the shoe factory. Being on the tail end of the assembly line required a tremendous amount of responsibility, and he had strived to be a stellar employee. He was in charge...
Why Can't We Soar
When I was young, my wings were what gave me life. I’d run towards the horizon and push myself off the ground, soaring like a dove freed from its cage. I remember the sound of the wind rushing past and the feeling of the fresh air filling my lungs. I’d fly until home was just a speck in the distance, and my stomach rumbled with hunger. As I flew, I’d sometimes hear shouts from down below. I thought they were shouts of joy, wonder, surprise. I’d look down upon them cheerfully, wave and shout back, then fly on. As I grew older, I started flying closer to the ground. I noticed the men’s shouts ...
Is It Really Never Too Late?
Is It Really Never Too Late?ByRon MerkinSexual attraction was out of the question. She was old enough to be his grandmother. But at some point during his fourth or fifth singing lesson a lump formed in Mike’s throat. Struggling by the seventh week to convince himself that the impulse he felt couldn't be romantic- it must only be fondness, admiration, even gratitude for the progress her lessons were bringing him - the need to unburden himself while running through vocal exercises and tackling operatic arias became so intense that the energy expended imprisoning its expression felt like the phy...