Just Write {147}

August 5, 2014

Elsie had a fever. It came on fast, out of nowhere. She’s so strong, so feisty, a listless look doesn’t fit on her. But there she sat with her shoulders hunched forward and her eyelids heavy, her cheeks flushed. I felt her forehead and said uh oh, here we go. When she gets sick, she gets sick. There’s a good chance she goes so hard for too long, ignoring the discomfort of tired muscles, a sore throat or a headache, whatever her body is saying. That’s what most of us do. Until we crash. We do this in so many ways.

So I held her in her bed and “kickled” her back, combed my fingers through her fever-sweaty hair. I sang twinkle twinkle, her favorite. Then her raspy whisper cut through the dark,

I love you, Mama. I love you too, My Elsie.


First there was the boom-crash and then the tinkling of falling glass. Then came the split second of wondering what happened, and slowly realizing…Oh, I hit something. So there I sat with my minivan backed up tight against a birch tree, no back window and a new dent. My neck hurt. I cried. I just started to cry right away because it was time and this was the straw. No more waiting to schedule the nervous breakdown, no more putting off the feelings. Then I couldn’t stop, the crying, the mess, the pain. Remember that song? Feels just like I’m walkin’ on broken glass? That one started playing in my head and I laugh-cried because the front door of my house shattered yesterday, and all this time something was shattered and not trickling down like a waterfall all over everything, but now it is.

A friend covered the window with plastic but the van was so dirty that the duct tape didn’t stick and the plastic went flapping in the air while I drove.

Little pieces of glasses fell out from the window frame here and there. There is no end to them, and they’re so small.

Tink Tink…

So I’m driving along and I look in my rearview mirror and every single time, I’m surprised the window is gone, and I’m a little awed at how clearly I can see through what was once so full of dirt and tint.

I’m just going to drive it like this for a little while.


I walked by a boat landing, watched a man push his speedboat up to his trailer. He stood waist deep in the water and stretched his arms up to a young girl on the edge of the boat. She bent her knees, stood frozen, hesitating. His fingers motioned her to him, I’ll catch you, he said. I’ve got you, he said. She bent her knees a little more, started to put her arms out to his, then stepped back, straightening her legs and dropping her arms to her sides. She shook her head back and forth.


This is the 147th installment of Just Write, an exercise in free writing your ordinary and extraordinary moments. {Please see the details here.} I would love to read your freely written words so join me and link up below. You can add the url of your post at any time. Just be sure it’s a link to your Just Write post, not to your main page. There are really no rules, besides Just Write! (Then link back to this post in your post so people know where to go if they’d like to join in.) (Any links not following those two guidelines will be deleted.)

Also. Please take a moment to visit someone else who has linked up! It’s a really good way to meet new writers and get inspired by the meaning behind their moments. Word?


Denise August 5, 2014 at 8:13 am

Hiya Goose. I’ve been away too long and this place and this exercise and you were just the opening I needed. You opened the door for me and I felt the warm light and I walked in. So grateful.

I am sorry for the tinkling and the breaking and the mess but I am glad you are allowing the tears to flow. Let it roll, baby.
Denise recently posted..Just Write, Re-entry

Denise August 5, 2014 at 8:14 am

Wait. No caffeine yet. YOU’RE Maverick. I’M Goose. I know this. Sure I do. xoxo
Denise recently posted..Just Write, Re-entry

Thekitchwitch August 5, 2014 at 8:38 am

This was broken and beautiful. I love reading your words.

Jo@All Seven Seas August 5, 2014 at 8:57 am

Beautiful. So sorry about the sick and the shattering of things. You have a way of finding a clearer, cleaner, hopeful view even when navigating broken glass and fever and fear. I think that’s what it means to be brave. Carry on, friend.
Jo@All Seven Seas recently posted..At the top

Suzie August 6, 2014 at 3:23 pm

I’m glad I stumbled upon your blog a while ago. I enjoy writing and enjoy reading the things you write about. Thanks for the chance to link up and write!
Suzie recently posted..It’s The Little Things, Love

chrissy August 6, 2014 at 7:35 pm

I don’t really think I have the words to tell you what your writing does inside my heart. But I can tell you how it feels. Like a rope hanging from a ledge when my hands have just begun to slide. Tender and generous. Splintered and held. Thank you. Sending so much light. XO

Amanda August 12, 2014 at 4:03 pm

This was gorgeous. If there is any of the little girl in you I hope that you have someone, several someones actually, reach out in a gesture of “I’ll catch you” and I hope that your heart will find a way to trust that just maybe they can…if not catch you, at least block you from the stronger winds.
Amanda recently posted..Anything Can Be

Robbie August 12, 2014 at 9:23 pm

The good thing an about the shattering is that you can put it all back together again in a different way for the different you. a good cry can be so freeing.
Robbie recently posted..Shock

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