Exodus

The prompt: She rolled her eyes as another one of her cabin mates tried to stifle sobs. She couldn't believe she had to stay at this horrible camp all summer! Her stomach growled. As she stepped toward her trunk for a forbidden snack, she tripped on a loose board. Curious, she leaned over to peek between the cracks, and saw... 

Exodus
She tossed and turned as several cabin mates in nearby bunks sobbed and cried for their mothers. Yes, it was a new experience, to go to a camp with roughly constructed barracks in the summer, with poor food so far, and it was stiflingly hot in the crowded room. Furthermore, the camp leaders were strict and could be downright mean.

But Keren, who had just celebrated her 12th birthday the week before going to the camp, wanted to be optimistic. She was outgoing and well-liked, for she consistently had a smile on her face and a compliment to give. Now, she was away from her annoying teenage brother, who teased her, read her private notes, and often stole her bagel before school. Many of her schoolmates were packing up and traveling, sometimes with no notice before they left. It was lonely and troublesome at home.

Keren’s mother and father tended to argue on a daily basis, which was both irritating and scary to hear her parents discuss their plan to move, her mother’s complaints about her father not making enough money to buy the tickets, and her father’s criticism of her mother’s reluctance to depart. It confused Keren because she wasn't sure whether they wanted to leave or not. Her mother and father constantly used sharp words, with the family love seemingly gone.

She was almost pleased to be out of that home environment on this adventure. Tomorrow just might bring a better day, although she was sorely hungry, and the narrow bed she shared with another girl was more like a piece of fence with straw on it. Sleeping did not appear to be an immediate option. The camp uniform was too big and scratchy, and looked like blue striped pajamas. She already missed her best friend, Liesel, who she laughed and played with every day.

The entire family had traveled together to the camp, but was separated as soon as they arrived, after being cooped up on the crowded train car with no food or water, or even a bathroom, for what seemed like an entire day. She left wearing the clothes on her back, with her mother and father clutching small parcels of favored belongings.

In the confusion upon arrival, the camp leaders shouted and instructed where to go and what to do. Hundreds of people huddled together and became startled by their yells. The men, including Keren’s father, re-loaded on the train, while her brother was shuttled on a cart led by horses with other boys to a different part of the camp she supposed. As the open cattle car rolled away along the tracks, she slowly waved at her dad, who appeared miserable. She wanted to feel confident that she would see her family again soon enough, although they may not recognize her.

All of the women and children arriving at the camp had their head shaved upon arrival. Then, they had to strip their clothes and were forced into a room where they were roughly sprayed down with water, lined up naked, and given uniforms. The guards separated the younger girls from the women, and then Keren watched her mother, and the others, march away.

It was a mystery to her as to why they were treated so badly. Many were crying, and Keren felt sorry for them. Now, more tears surrounded her as her stomach growled again. Before bed, they’d hungrily devoured a bitter, watery soup, and it simply was not enough to satisfy her.

“I've got to find something to eat!” she thought as she sat up, and gingerly stepped onto the wooden floor. The unkind guards outside told them to stay in bed until roll call the next morning, but her brother had once complimented her for her craftiness in sneaking food from the downstairs kitchen without her parents discovering it. Feeling confident, she tiptoed towards the door.

In the gloomy quarters with only the light of the moon shining through a few small windows, she lost her balance when she tripped over a loose board. Causing a noisy ruckus with her fall, she scrambled to get back up, again knocking against the slack panel. Embarrassed, with numerous young women looking on, and wanting to overcome her failure to navigate the dark room, she feigned a purposeful floor examination, pointed to the floor and said, “It was loose, I thought …,” and bent down, pretending to peek between the cracks.

At that moment, the door burst open, and before Keren could completely straighten herself up to see who appeared, a bullet hit her in the head, dropping her.

“Heil Hiltler!” one of the guards shouted, and after lowering his raised right arm, abruptly shut the door.

This was a non-winning entry to a short story writing contest this summer. :( It was My first try at writing fiction for a contest, so I do believe that I can produce better work in the future, with at least an honorable mention the next time around! As a teacher, I also understand that judging writing can be very subjective.

Wake Up

“I can’t believe she hasn’t called,” said Jane.

She slammed the plates into the cupboard in exasperation.

“Honey, she’s busy,” said Marcos, Jane’s husband, as he flipped through the Sunday paper.

“But all that time I spent on that package, not to mention the extraordinary efforts we underwent to host them here,” she added, throwing the silverware in the drawer with a clang. “I just don’t understand, not a peep in weeks.”

“I’ve talked to Kenny, and he said something about being happy about getting the shirt back,” said Marcos, chuckling inside about the gag gift his wife had purchased for Marie’s husband. It was an all-American polo shirt, probably manufactured in the 80’s, with a flag, the constitution and patriotic heroes screened onto the fabric. She probably found it at the annual church swap meet. It was her gift to Kenny when they visited that summer for the fourth of July.

“It’s not funny,” Jane retorted.

“I’m sorry, sugar, I know she cares, and you do too. Maybe she has some sort of complication and she can’t connect right now,” Marcos said.

Not placated, Jane finished the dishes and began preparations for dinner.

“We’re eating fish for dinner,” she said to Marcos, aware that it wasn’t his favorite, but wanted to use up the last of the catch their friends had brought them from Alaska.
"Sounds good to me," Marcos answered, not wanting to further rock the boat.

After wiping down the counters, Jenny strode into the master bedroom and plopped down on the bed. She picked up a book and began to read. Within 10 minutes, her eyes began to droop, so she gave in and set the book aside, and snoozed.

The phone rang.

“Hello?” Jane replied groggily.

“Hi, Jane, it’s me, Marie!” her sister said excitedly.

“Oh, hi,” she said.

“Tell me how you have been, and then I can’t wait to share the most exciting news,” Marie said.

“I’ve been fine,” said Jane.

“Awesome,” said Marie. “And how is your job, and Marcos, and the kids?”

“Fine,” said Jane.

“And how about your neighbors, Marlene and Eddie, did they have an awesome summer?” she asked.

“They’re fine,” Jane said.

“Well,” began Marie again, “and what about your wine business, any new distributors?”

“No,” Jane said.

“Jane,” Marie said, “what is wrong? You’re acting like you don’t even want to talk to me.”

“Well actually Marie, I don’t,” Jane said, as shifted the phone to her other ear and propped herself up on the bed.

“And why not? I’m about to tell you the most exciting news and you don’t even have a word to say, except that everything is fine,” said Marie, as her face moved into pout mode, or at least that was how Jane visualized it. “I’d like to be pleasant with you, I mean, I asked how you were doing and everything. I mean, what is up? Why are you being mean to me?”

“When was the last time we talked?” retorted Jane.

“I don’t remember, and I apologize. I’ve been so busy …,” said Marie.

“Yeah, that’s what Marcos said. Whatever,” said Jane.

“Sooo … do you want to just stay mad at me and not hear my news?” asked Marie, hurt.

“All right, whatever,” said Jane, “Or let me guess. You won the lottery and have been having so much fun spending money on yourself that you haven’t had time to call.”

“Not exactly, dear sister, but I guess you don’t want to know, so, LATER,” said Marie, and she hung up the phone.

Jane woke up.

“Oh no,” she thought, “I am not being very forgiving at all. I need to call my sister!”

She punched “Marie” into her cell phone and waited for the connection.

“Hello,” Marie said, and Jane could feel her smile through the miles.

“Hello, dear sis,” said Jane, tentatively, “how are you?”

“Excellent,” said Marie, “I’ve missed you so, and please forgive my not calling back. We have had the most exciting summer since returning to Texas, and I’ve just received the most excellent news. But you first, how is your job going? And Marcos, has he had some time to play some golf and run in some races lately? And how about the kids? Have you had a chance to visit recently?” The words came gushing out of Marie in her normal fast-paced manner.

“Well,” Jane said, “We are all doing well. Job pace has slowed a bit since the start of school, Marcos beat Claude Capus in golf the other day, Alfred is doing well in his job and getting excited about his marriage to Candi, and Alicia is performing in a new play next week. We’ll be up there for the premiere then. I also found some incredible fabric for curtains at the thrift store the other day! So, what is your news, I’m dying to hear.”

“Okay,” answered Marie, “Are you ready?”

“Why of course,” said Jane.

“Well,” said Marie, “your sister is going to be a published author, of my own book!”

“How exciting!” said Jane, “which one? The children’s book about the bean’s that you’ve talked about for years, the conspiracy theory story or the one about all the weird people in your community?”

“Neither and none,” answered Marie. “An agent saw my blog and had a topic –food of all things – and thought that I would be excellent at writing about it. This happened soon after we returned from California, and since then, I have been preparing my proposal. As of Friday, I will be writing my first book!”

“That’s awesome!” said Jane, “What’s the title?”

“Wake up.”

“What? That’s the title?”

“No, I said wake up,” said Marcos, as he gently nudged Jane’s shoulder.

“What?” asked Jane.

“Honey, your sister is on the phone,” he added.

Jane laughed and asked him, “Did she tell you the title of her book?”

He gave her a puzzled look and handed her the phone.

“Hello,” she said.

“Oh, Jane, I’m so sorry for taking so long to call you! With all of my summer jobs, and my writing, back to school for me and the kids, I want to apologize for not thanking you for our awesome summer trip and the wonderful care package you sent,” Marie unloaded.

“Oh, dear sister, I was just thinking of you today. And by the way, I’m sorry that I didn’t call to check on you, and congratulations on the book deal!” said Jane.

“What?” asked Marie.

“I just have a feeling that something big is going to happen to you soon,” added Jane.

And they had a wonderful, sisterly conversation and all was well.

The End.

10 Minutes

As I was washing the dishes this morning, pondering all that I'd done this day already, yet regretful that I had not accomplished more, an interesting thought popped into my head.

What if God told me I had only ten minutes to live? What would I do in those ten minutes? This question, as all questions that fly through my brainwaves, included a stipulation. I would be notified of the ten minutes in whatever I was doing at that moment, for example, sitting at my computer at home, at school, in the car, and whether I was with my family, friends, or alone, and that would be my only warning.

First thought was that I must call my family. I was alone as I had this contemplation, so of course I would start with my husband, my children, my mother, my father, my sisters, and before I knew it, I would be out of ten minutes. It would be very difficult to tell each person what they mean to me and to express my love. How about a group text? But that would not be fair, or very nice, unless I just told them all that I love each one of them very much.

Then, typical of me, food popped into my head, the last meal, and with my eyes closed, as I rinsed off the green lettuce holder, I scanned the inside of my pantry, the freezer and the refrigerator. Since I recently ate some fresh eggs from my mother's chickens, served with sauteed onions, mushrooms, spinach, corn tortilla and garlic, sprinkled with cheese and served with a piece of buttery white toast, the Snickers bar frozen treat in my freezer appeared very satisfactory.

And because earlier in the week I discussed with my husband that Australia was on my bucket list to visit, I wistfully pondered that I would like to have gone there before I passed. Going somewhere when I only had ten minutes to live, unless I was already there, did not seem very likely, which leads to my answer of what I would do if I was told that I only had ten minutes to live.

I would first thank God for an awesome life, and for giving me several opportunities to keep on living. With two close-to-death experiences, I believe I am less afraid of death than some. Then, I think I would keep on doing what I was doing, washing the orange frying pan, folding clothes, walking the dog or making deviled eggs. I would certainly call Kevin and my children to tell them that I loved them very much, and maybe have a second Snickers bar.

Rain, Rain ... Stay!

How many times, as a child, did you sing "Rain, rain, go away?"

Rain, rain, go away,
come again another day.
Little Johnny 
wants to play. 

Because I remember and can sing the tune so well, I think I must have sung it thousands of times. We replaced the name "Johnny" with my name, my brother's or sister's, and later, with my children's names. The song would come about when we endured a day or two more of rain and were feeling cooped up and wanted to be outside.

In retrospect, as Central Texas endures a debilitating drought, I would love to have the Mother Goose song be eliminated from pre-school and elementary school song lists, for Texas at least. While some areas of the country endure rainy weather for weeks and months at a time (May Gray and June Gloom in California), in the Austin area, we LOVE the rain. Sure, it was a downer on all those weekender events planned for Memorial Day weekend on the lake and in backyard pools, but alternatives to the rain exist.

As we attended an outdoor concert on Saturday night, attacked by a deluge of rain five minutes after we arrived, people adapted. The kids played in puddles and splashed around in the rain. The performers, just a couple out of about six, moved under the cabana and sang with just a guitar and a mike.

On Sunday, out on the lake, we hung out on the boat dock as the sprinkles came and went, and eventually moved the chips, bread and sandwich makings to the porch up the lawn. While we were on the lake, it rained for maybe ten minutes, but aren't boats and their passengers allowed to be wet?

Monday morning brought thunderstorms and rain, rain, rain until early afternoon. Perfect weather for sleeping in and taking care of indoor tasks, but it didn't keep my teenage daughter from participating in the wet skies and road and taking a run. With more rain in the forecast, we are rejoicing and willing to pull out our umbrellas.

I love watching the rain on the radar, as it approaches from the west, east, north or south. I take delight in the lightening and thunder, especially when it is dark outside. Rain is an ally, a partner, and a friend, that I do not want to go away,

Fireflies are here!

From the top, it looks like a one-eyed insect, larger than a lady bug but smaller than a grasshopper. The red, upper crown with the single "black eye" and searching antennae, along with the black body sprouting spindly legs is nothing special to look at, until the sun starts to set and the winged critter begins to fly among the trees and bushes of the front or back lawn. You see, this is a unique creature that has an extraordinary ability to illuminate the evening sky with dedicated "light organs" in its abdomen.

This paper clip-sized beetle is the delight of young and old as the start of summer approaches. I felt an ease and pleasure as I saw my first fireflies of the season last night. Its a special time of year for me, because I have so many fond memories of playing with them and catching them as a child. We would carry around a mayonnaise or mason jar, and place some grass and picked wildflowers in it, as lightening bugs enjoy feasting on pollen. When we saw the intermittent flashing of the abdomen, the brother, sister or friend, without the jar, would chase after it and capture it in his or her hands and throw it in the jar. The poor thing would have to flutter about the container with holes punched in the metal top without a friend, until one of us was able to catch another. What fun it was to watch them glow together.

The emotional impression of fireflies that I have is the knowledge that summer is beginning. With children, this means I can sleep in a little every morning, and have a long afternoon involved in a project without school activity interruptions. In central Texas, it means long summer evenings with light in the sky until 10 pm in late June. It means warm nights. I feel the ease of hanging out with friends on the back porch, playing darts, gatherings with family with young children, barbecues, boats and beaches. With summer, I have rest, friendship and fun. Welcome fireflies!

I'm an ADD Writer

Sitting, standing, walking, lying down. I can write in all of those positions, and I do, on a regular basis.

When imagining me writing, one should not visualize me hunkering down on the computer for hours and days at a time. It's 15-30 minutes MAX that I can stay sitting at a computer writing. Often, I stand over the computer taking notes to a client's video, while I stretch out.  This is after taking a one and a half to three mile walk up and down strenuous hills, while either reading or listening to client presentations, and then typing information about it into an email to myself. the writing provides a perfect distraction to the strain on my legs and the beating down of the sun on my head.

Lying on my bed is not a regular position for me, as when I move to the bedroom to work, my eyes picture the lateral position, my sense of touch recognizes feel of the soft pillows, and my nose detects the leftover effects of the aromatic "bedtime" spray. It's a lot quieter in there, perfect for repose. I don't last very long before my eyelids hover over my eyeballs, my head begins to nod, and I lose track of what I'm reading and writing. Oh, and I forgot about the driving position. After researching a project all day, I may record insight via the speaker module of the phone, again, in an email to myself to be copied and pasted into the completed document.

If I'm not writing, I'm attending to the list that grows by the hour of chores, exercises and tasks to complete each day, week and month. It runs from the loading of the laundry in the washer and dryer to cooking the meals in daily chores to self-pedicures and physical fitness for personal revival. By the time I've taken my daughter to school and picked her up in the afternoon, I've consumed two hours of my day, which leaves less time for hammering out words on the computer. And speaking of consuming, food is another huge distraction. A multi-level indulgence of nuts, fruit, yogurt, veggies, salty snacks and candy can make up one "meal" over a four hour period.  That's a movement for each item - stand up, go to refrigerator, pantry or desk to retrieve it, wash it, unwrap it or pop it into my mouth.

So why am I a writer, you may ask, thinking that writer types spit out thousands of words per day on a keyboard, conjuring, explaining and describing all types of material for students and clients, from resorts in Australia to a dentist office in California. In addition to the constant movement my body requires, my brain also experiences the traveling of thoughts in and out, up and down. There are cards to write, art materials to collect and assemble, in addition to the myriad of clients for which to write. It all needs to spill out somewhere, and why not here and there?

I am an ADD writer, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Setting

Tonight I appreciated the sun at the end of the day, as it appears to fall in the sky, off the edge of the earth. Travelling west, towards the grand Texas Hill Country, I encountered the most wonderful panorama surrounding the ball of fire as it slowly made its way through the feathery, waterflow-shaped clouds. The road took me down, through the valley of Bee Creek, and then winded up to a plateau at the top of the canyon, viewing the grand sky and a much larger vista, allowing miles and miles of scenic views.

My first observation of the gorgeous sight was at the top of the first descent, where little evidence of population exists. The golden orb was slightly masked by sheets of clouds at the bottom, but they were transparent enough to see a faint outline of the bottom of the circle. While the tiny water droplets floating in the sky were tinted by the apparent color of the sun and its refraction off the earth, they took on a more rosy glow as the landscape extended around it. The sun was a lighter, brighter, whiter circle in the sky that was pasted onto the background with the tissue-paper like clouds upon it. The very blue sky of springtime contrasted and merged with the pomegranate red, orange sweet potato and yellow mango of the color wheel, with wisps of white and other white daring to cross the spectrum. The distraction was great, as I wanted to keep my eyes on the perceived movement of the sun, as opposed to the swiftly moving cars around me.

The power and heat of the sun was upon me as I squinted behind my sunglasses, and failed at adjusting the visor to cover its brightness. I gave in to the beauty of the sky, flipped up the shade, and considered pulling over to take a photo, but knew that it was futile to capture the beauty, and the feeling of peace and awe that the picture had upon me at that instant. I wanted to stay in that inspiring moment for as long as possible, but alas, I descended into the valley of the river and as the earth turned, the panorama was obstructed by yet another bump in the landscape, and the elusive sunset, and view of it, escaped me.

I do hope to capture the setting sun, and the pleasure of its beauty, again tomorrow.