Duck the Swallows

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I remember well the summers in upstate New York when I was young. The four-acre farm that my family lived on was not just a training ground of responsibility for my siblings and me. It was a natural school. We learned how to work as a team–which was often a tug of war for the best and easiest assigned chores. There were five of us–three girls and two boys. My father had a riding lawn mower, and thank goodness because he mowed about two-thirds of our four-acres.

If you stood at the side of the road facing our two-story farm house, you would see a large freshly mowed field to the left. Closest to the road was a large raspberry patch that my mother employed us to pick from for jams, jellies and sometimes pies. Much further back in the field was a fenced in chicken coop where the meanest rooster in the world lived. But that is another story. Continue reading “Duck the Swallows”

Thanks, Mom



As she sat alone on the bench in the round-about in front of her favorite store in the mall, she wondered where time had spent its days. Was time on vacation? Time didn’t seem as though it was aware that the world was still turning. Life had not been friendly, and she realized how lonely she was. She had many friends and acquaintances, but here she was in the mall all alone once again. She ate lunch alone, shopped alone, went to the movies alone. She was certain that people knew she had the weekends off from her job but nobody every invited her to go anywhere or do anything. She felt like she was begging when she would call a friend and ask what they were doing for the weekend. Everyone was always telling her that she was so likable so why would they exclude her?

From the time she was a young girl, she was the independent type, but that didn’t mean that she didn’t need companionship or friendship. There were several moments in her life that she had one or two friends that she would see every day or at least nearly every day. Then, like this time in her life, she didn’t have anyone that seemed interested in spending time with her. As she sat there on that bench alone, she felt tears water up in her eyes, and she shook them off.  “No.,” she thought. I’m not going to cry. Not here. Continue reading “Thanks, Mom”