Music of the Mountain
Country roads wind their way
Quaint towns, once familiar hills and vales
Dismay, as malls of progress
Block farmland valleys.
The homeward trek continues – changes unfold.
Tentative…
Long driveway ahead
Stunning new stone gate;
Upscaled arena – superb symphonic space
Science center, sparkling in the sun.
So much missing:
The concert shed;
The moldy, memorable residence hall;
The meandering brook, my misty morning refuge.
Is nothing the same?
Stop! Inhale!
Cool crisp air floods my lungs.
Clarity, calmness, confirmation.
There – rising above, through feathery, filmy fog
Towering firs scaling the slope.
Listen! Life abounds beneath the canopy
Multitudes of melodious measures resume
Cleaving again, after all these years, ‘neath the mountain
My musical mountain – home.
written in response to Trifecta Writing challenge week 38.

Am I blue?
Loving, gifted grandsons,
Handsome husband,
Fairy tale family,
Perfect puppy!
Ah, there it is… lachrymosa.
My “Shadow”, my sheltie.
Always near: my playmate, my pal, my patient.
She trusted me to care for her;
To know when to say “when”.
She needed saving…she was saved;
A day, a few precious weeks…months.
She’s healing, she’s walking, she’s eating,
She’s happy!
She’s gone!
A void is now, happily, filled…our perfect puppy:
Joie de vivre….ecstatic exuberance…we love him!
Still, a dull ache pulses softly beneath a smiling surface
Ever receding: open wound, scab, scar.
I am blue.
They expect her to be normal.
She tries, she obeys, she behaves
But normal isn’t in the cards!
For awhile, she heels;
For awhile, she straddles the fence;
For awhile she shows spurts of normalcy;
Until weirdness wins out.
They choose her ‘vocation’
Feigning support, they coax her
This way, that way, which way?
Her way!
She endures the stares and sneers
She dares to go where she shouldn’t
She thwarts their unspoken (if suppressed) desire for failure.
By succeeding.
The road never smoothed for her
Odds never evened.
Actions viewed through unforgiving filters
Achievements acknowledged, misunderstood.
Unpopular choices made
Paths less-traveled, chosen
She is blessed; she is happy;
Normal? Not so much!
In response to Trifecta Challenge week 36 (http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com)
NORMAL (noun)
1: a : a normal line b : the portion of a normal line to a plane curve between the curve and the x- axis 2: one that is normal 3: a form or state regarded as the norm : standard
PerspectiveDesignated location on rooftop deckShortcut through the alley;Suddenly, senses under attackThe city’s underbelly!Wait to exhale…Walk faster, closer and closerto the distant pinpoint of lightEmerge, gasping, from the alley!Exhale! Inhale! Breathe!Breathe in, breathe out,Revulsion recedesClimb worn stone steps to 4th floor Hurry! Wait! Survive – ’til day’s end.The alley awaits!Will I be chosen?Thought evolves; from alley – to ‘box’ – and backNausea gives way to nostalgia; Powerlessness to prideResponsibility! Right! Privilege!It’s 1972 – it’s 2012: years elapse; nothing changes.Jury Duty!
2 a (1) : having been seen, used, or known for a short time (2) : unfamiliar
b : being other than the former or old
3: NEW: having been in a relationship or condition but a short time <new to the job> <a new wife>

Mom was a photographer, displaying her motherly pride through the artistic expression of her photography. Eileen was a classic beauty.
We were a family of three and there were photos to prove it!
There were boxes and boxes of photos. There were snapshots and enlargements, painstakingly tinted and colored (Eileen was trying her hand at various methods of color transfer development techniques). There were beautiful photos, blurry photos, masterpieces and cast-aside ‘experiments’. Yet, all captured for posterity, precious moments in time.
I stare at a picture taken on a rooftop as daylight was dwindling. Mom was swaddling her infant in her arms. Dad gazed lovingly at us. What did they talk about up there on the roof that evening? Who took the picture? Was Dad reassuring her that their love could overcome the resistance from his Italian family, outraged because he married an Irish girl?
I wish I could time-travel and sit-in on our conversation. I would thank them and reassure them that I would love my sister, and later my brother; and that our special threesome would inevitably evolve to another, better model – Eileen, Nick and the three kids.
Defiant Dagny builds railroads, encourages entrepreneurial industrialists, and uncovers island of misfit geniuses, while finding true love with two inspirational inventors; and saving America from socialistic and economic disaster. Thank you, John Galt!
She had expected this day for months. After 23 years, she’d almost welcomed it. She was prepared psychologically, emotionally, and financially, rationalizing that it offered the best of all worlds. Her family was ready. She was ready.
Yet on that day, there was a part of her that wanted to wish it away, and she promised herself that she wouldn’t cry, as she walked down the hall to his office. During that brief and last encounter with him, the anticipation and sense of impending doom was put to rest, as reality smacked her (she knew it would) right between the eyes.
Those eyes were now brimming with tears, as she returned to her once-comfortable executive office to pack all that remained of her personal belongings. She called home to confirm that it was fait accompli; and as if in shock, stood alone and still at the window, staring out at the street.
It was no surprise to see Augie cruising back and forth, awaiting the verdict. He lowered the car window, and catching her eye, gestured a questioning, “thumbs up” or “thumbs down”.
Earlier that day, they’d shared lunch with a small inner circle of friends, raising their glasses; toasting to what had been and what was yet to come. The pros and cons, were carefully weighed and openly voiced. Hundreds of her co-workers expected their ‘news’ today, as well. For months the general feeling had been one of helplessness and incredulity. Today, almost dutifully, the friends awkwardly laughed, recalling happier days and promising to stay ‘in touch’, despite the inevitable cyclone of corporate ‘right-sizing’ that was headed their way.
Now that the fireworks were over, tears began to well up again (they would so often in the days to come) as she sadly motioned ‘thumbs down’ to Augie. He shrugged; silently, knowingly offering his consolation, encouragement, and empathy, with the shared glance of an old friend.
It was at that moment, she began to comprehend how truly life-changing this would be.

http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com (Trifecta Writing Challenge, wk. 34: Fireworks)
In response to Prompt three of Trifecta Challenge, week 33 :
They could have waited with him
To ease the dread of the coming hours
But they sleep – weak, unaware,
Despite His enigmatic warnings.
He agonizes; he despairs
As long-foretold events
Unfold.
His mind flashes back
Tentative toddler steps
Tumbling into his Mothers arms
Foretelling tomorrow’s fall
She will be there – again – to cradle Him
As he falls to
Earth.
On this eve, here in the garden
Friends nearby (all but one)
He stands alone;
On the edge of eternity
Embracing His dreaded, desired destiny
He stands alone.
He weeps.
As I set up this Blog, and establish categories that I think will become regular stopping off places, I realize that though I’ve neared the milestone of 5 posts, none of them have been specifically about my boys. I know there will be many posts about each of them in the days to come but for now, a few words of introduction are in order – in order of their birth, the line-up of our ‘starting five’:
So for now – this is my placeholder for the category “Grandsons”. I promise there is much material to capture in this category!