Daily Prompt – Together

Do you remember that weekend at the beach right after graduation? We drove from the city and stayed at the house Lisa’s parents used to own. Suntans, bikinis and boys in the surf and sand during the day and beer, seafood and more boys under a blanket of stars at night. Six girls set loose on the world. We sat up at night planning our lives. We were gonna have it all and do it all together. I remember driving away that last day, looking back at the ocean; the waves crashing against the shore as if we had never been there. That’s the funny thing about the ocean, it goes on without you, waves crashing again and again. That weekend was the last time we were all together.

Daily Prompt – Fragile

I stood over the incubator, my hand pressed against the hard plastic, helplessly looking at my newborn daughter struggle to breathe. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. A car accident had sent me into labor 9 weeks early. I was alone – my husband Matthew was still deployed and none of my family had arrived yet. As much physical pain as I was in, the emotional turmoil I felt was so much more deep. My heart ached looking down at the tiny, fragile body with tubes and wires seeming to be everywhere. An alarm sounded nearby jarring me from my thoughts and sending my heart racing. A nurse rushed to a nearby incubator and I sighed a breath of relief. Then the tears started to fall. What if the next alarm was mine? I looked down at my tiny baby girl. She didn’t even have a name yet. We still had six names on the list. She was such a fragile little thing. Please God, please let me keep her long enough to give her a name.

Daily Prompt – Slog

The rain had picked up and I pulled my hood tighter around my face, ducking my head from the wind. I slogged through the muddy trail looking for the right spot. I was close, I could feel it. I desperately wanted to call out, but I knew there would be no answer. Finally I saw it, an old wooden cross worn by a few years of exposure to the weather and animals. A simple name was etched onto the cross beam. BAXTER. Our dog, the only family we had.

Kneeling in front of the cross, I brushed off the moss and laid the wildflowers on the ground in front of it. I touched the wood gently, as if I was touching Baxter himself. “Hey boy, it’s been a while. God I miss you like crazy.” I paused as my eyes filled with tears, which mixed with the raindrops slipping down my face.

“Chris never got over you. Neither of us did. We tried to get another dog but we just couldn’t. We could never find another dog like you.” I bowed my head and closed my eyes, choking back the sobs. “He’s gone Bax. Chris is dead. Did you run into him yet? I know he’s up there looking for you. It would be the first thing he would do.”

Finally I let the sobs come and my whole body shook with grief and pain, with fear and shock. Until there was nothing left. I touched the cross again. “Take good care of him Baxter. My two boys are together again.”

Daily Prompt – Perplexed

Walking up the stairs to my apartment, I saw the package sitting on my doorstep. I was perplexed. Nobody knew I lived here except Kim. I looked down at the box at my feet. No markings from the post office or package delivery service. Odd. I cocked my head to the side and bent at the knees, investigating further. In black marker only one word – Neighbor. I gingerly lifted the box to my ear. No ticking or other noise from within. Satisfied I stood and tucked the box under my arm, unlocking my door and dropping my briefcase, dry cleaning and the box on the kitchen table.

I poured myself a glass of wine, took a long sip and let out a deep breath, walking back to the table. I faced the box squarely and pulled off the wrapper, still half expecting the thing to blow up and kill me instantly. Maybe I watched too much television. Slowly pulling off the lid, I peeked inside and found a box of Rice-a-Roni, a loaf of sourdough bread, a very good amount of Ghirardelli chocolate, and two tickets to the 49ers game on Sunday along with a note. “Welcome neighbor. 5B here, Ryan Bates. I noticed your plates are from Illinois. I thought I’d start you off with a taste of San Francisco. And maybe take you to the game Sunday? Show you how football is really played.” I smiled and pulled off a hunk of bread to go with my wine. What the hell. Locking my apartment, I headed for 5B to meet my neighbor and explain how the Bears play the game right.

Daily Prompt – Radical

I stared at my reflection and barely recognized the dull, lifeless eyes looking back. When had my life become so monotonous? When had I stopped living and begun to merely exist? I thought back to the days when he and I were together. Everything had a certain shine to it, colors seemed brighter, noises sounded sharper. After he left everything slowly changed. Now I needed something new. A radical, life-altering, no turning back change. Smiling, I pivoted on my toes and went to the bedroom to pack.

Three hours later I had two suitcases in the backseat of my Mustang. I threw my arms around her neck. “Kimmy, I’m gonna miss you so much.” I fought back the tears. “I still can’t believe I’m doing this. You’re sure you can take care of the movers and selling this old place for me?”

My best friend hugged me even tighter. “Of course I can. I’ve got you covered. Honey I’m so happy you decided to do this. You’ve always wanted to move to San Francisco. Mark only held you back. It’s your turn now. Go and shine.”

I climbed into my car and turned the ignition over, the engine roaring to life. With the top down and the radio blaring I made my way down the road, majestically into the sunset as I waved goodbye to Kim and left my old life behind, driving forward toward my new destiny.

Daily Prompt – Stump

I went to the woods, where we used to go when we were young, to escape our tragic teenaged lives. I found the rock we used to sit on, talking about our dreams, about our futures, planning and scheming what our futures would be. Walking further, I looked for the tree where we carved our initials, SRM + SAR. I’m sure if anybody passed they assumed it was for lovers, but we were best friends since middle school. When we were still innocent and impressionable. We clung to one another out of necessity, borne of exclusion into the popular crowd.

Then in our junior year of high school, you became one of the anointed few. A popular boy took a shine to you and your stock soared, taking you to new heights we had previously mocked. Of course you couldn’t take me with you. That’s not the way it works. So I watched as you became the person we always mocked. But this time I didn’t have anyone to taunt with. You were generous enough to walk by me without commenting, a small favor for such trivial times. I resented you but I was thankful that you left me alone. As sad as I was that you had left me behind.

I finally found our tree, what was left of it anyway, chopped down and now just a stump. It was in the clearing, marked with the stones we left in the ground. Unmistakable to anyone but you or me. I brushed away the moss from the base of the tree and thought of all the conversations that took place here, all the dreams, all the plans. A sad smile crossed my face and I fought back the tears. “I’ll always love you Sara.” I said as I touched the tree stump. I stood and made my way back to my car. I had a memorial service to attend.

Daily Prompt – Recharge

My shoes were caked in mud, sweat beads ran in rivulets between my breasts and down my back, and I could hardly catch my breath as I struggled up the rocky path. Beth told me it was an easy hike. Served me right for listening to a Zumba instructor. My best friend was 50 feet ahead of me and chirping away breathlessly about the beauty of nature or some shit like that. I fought the urge to hurl a rock at her head. Just a small rock.

Trying to sigh through my breathlessness, I did find it touching that she was trying to keep my mind off of Kevin. He’d left for a new job in Chicago and had promised we would try and make our relationship work. He had only called once, the day he arrived in the new city, and promised he would call again as soon as he was settled in at work and moved into his new apartment. That had been a week ago.

“The great thing about hiking is you’re not only releasing those endorphins but you’re taking in the energy of the Earth.” Beth turned around on the path and spread her head and arms out to the sky. I am ashamed to say that I could no longer take her positive outlook so I hurled a smallish pinecone at her head. (It did far less damage than the rock, plus my aim was off and it only struck her on the shoulder.)

“What was that?” She shrieked at me. “I’m trying to help you. You need to be in a Zen place right now. You need to find a place of peace.” Her hands went to her hips and she pouted out her lips, clearly not in a Zen place herself.

“I need cell reception!” I screamed at her, waving my useless phone in the air. I had been secretly pressing buttons since the beginning of our little morning excursion and the battery was now down to single digits. “How am I supposed to answer his call if I’m in a freaking forest?” Beth could sense my frustration level was on overload and gave up on trying to calm me. “Alright, let’s get you home.” Her shoulders drooped in failure.

As soon as we were home I ran up the stairs and plugged my cell phone in to recharge the battery. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I stared at the screen waiting for the phone to come to life. I was certain he had called while we were gone. It was Saturday. He had just been busy during the week – too busy to call me. I was certain of that. Now that it was the weekend he had time to call and reassure me. If my phone would just cooperate.

Finally, there was enough juice to turn it back on. I watched as the logo played across the screen, my legs dancing up and down in anticipation. The home screen lit up. No missed calls. My breath caught in my throat. I pushed some buttons, scrolling through screens. No missed calls, no missed texts. Nothing. Damn. I swallowed back my tears and called downstairs. “Beth, I’m sorry I pegged you in the shoulder with a pinecone.”