Needed_Dear Me_Learning to Stand_The Other Side of Civil
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Needed
I was never green-fingered, I mean not especially. I was just as capable as anyone else of buying some houseplant and placing it on some table or other and then watering it whenever I remembered or whenever it started to look dubiously brown.I mean, how hard could it be? How hard could it be to raise and grow a plant compared to raising a child or maintaining a relationship?It was for this reason I half-heartedly challenged myself in the first place. I'd lost both my husband and my only child in the past 18 months. My heart was sealed shut to further loved ones and even to pets, but hey - hous...
Dear Me
Dear Me Written by Cynthia NewbyKimmy sat in her rocking chair in her bedroom with her faithful companion and best friend, Luna. Luna slept in her dog bed not far from Kimmy. She just returned to the house after she retrieved the mail. She didn't lwww.onedoor.ccike going outside much, but no one else was home. Something inside her nudged her to check the mailbox. She noticed that the letter was addressed to her. She had no idea who would write her. She almost threw it away as she thought it was just someone playing a prank on her, taunting her, or bullying her somehow. Instead, she turned her stereo on, put...
Learning to Stand
Cassie tried not to wince as she pushed Kaylee on the swing, but the movements sent hot, jabbing pain to her ribs. Her upper arms protested every push. She wanted to lie down and not move until there was no more pain, physically or emotionally. Her thoughts drifted, wondering how her life got so messed up. She used to laugh more, have tons of friends. And then she got pregnant with Kaylee and married Marc. She missed the Marc she knew when they were dating. He was so caring, attentive, and tender. And sometimes he still was, even though it was usually after he tore into her about something mun...
The Other Side of Civil
I would say it started when we were young. Brothers. Destined to fight over anything. To compete over everything. But now, now brotherly conflict seems silly. As I sit here, hiding behind a building, as bullets whizz around me. Brother against brother, wondering how we got here. Raised on the land. That’s what my dad had always called it. Raised in the great outdoors. The farm. The life. We shot together. Ran together. Fought and squabbled together. It is what brothers do. It is what we did. There was always something to compete over. Even though we were a year apart, by the time we were two a...