Daily Post: Hyperbole

The Daily Prompt was Hyperbole.

Hyperbole (pronounced ‘high-purr-bo-lee’) is a figure of speech in which an author or speaker purposely and obviously exaggerates to an extreme.  I love language and I love this word, but I had never attempted to use it purposely.  So, I decided to try to use it in the short little story below and it was surprisingly fun!

IMG_4148

puffy clouds

As I sit outside in the sunshine on this beautiful albeit windy day, munching on my caramel apple and trying to keep my hair out of the stickiness, I see an alien.  Yes, an alien, then a pizza and finally a rooster all are blowing by in the puffy white clouds.

One minute, I’m thinking that I’ll be as big as a barn if I don’t stop eating all of these delightful candy coated, caramel concoctions and the next minute I’m thinking of my granny, skinny as a toothpick lying on a blanket finding pictures in the clouds.

Granny would have had a story for every picture; the alien would have been larger than life and travelled faster than the speed of light.  She would have said thinking about that pizza made her so hungry she could eat a horse and she probably would have had a story about how she tried to catch a rooster once and it ran like lightning.

After the stories were told and the clouds began to diminish and the skies became bluer than blue, we would pick up our blanket and shake the leaves off because after all, we had a million things to do.

Back then, I never would have considered Granny as old as the hills because she had as much spunk as most half her age.  Today, when I think about her and remember clasping her wrinkled little hand, I miss her.  She loved unconditionally and I’m beyond grateful for her prayers.  Knowing I will see her again someday allows me to smile at her memory.

SONY DSC

 

Daily Prompt: Shelf

Ash and Chompers

My eldest, Ashley with Chompers, her first gift from her Nana

The moment I saw Today’s prompt, I knew what I would write about.  This is a poem representing the word “shelf”.

I was sitting in Cracker Barrel, with many just like me

Just wondering if I would ever have a home

When as I pondered this, I felt myself airborne

Oh no, please not a child whose left to roam

The torture never ends for us, the bruises and the nicks

Not to mention sticky fingers and the floor

But this time, the touch felt different. Should I dare to harbor hope?

Can it be as Grandpa said?  Could there be more?

I stole a glance at my captor’s face, and she returned my smile

She held me out to have a look, to ponder me from afar

She said, “This one is perfect, I knew it from the start

Before I knew it, I’d been purchased and was riding in her car.

Or course I was ecstatic, and couldn’t wait to see my home

She took me to a room all filled with flowers and love

A beautiful, tiny baby slept, a sight she was to see

It was then I knew for sure that I had been blessed from above.

When I was new, my coat did shine, my clothes they were pristine

My eyes were bright and bore no scratches from wear and tear

I was gifted by this Nana to this amazing baby girl

Oh the fun that we would have, the love we’d share

I kept her warm on chilly nights and was always there to hug

As the years flew by, she took me everywhere she went

She grew up fast and stayed so busy, I didn’t see her as much

Though our time together grew less and less, I knew how much I meant

Even though I am old and torn, she has keep me all these years

And she used to pick me up to reminisce,

To think upon our memories, the days and nights of fun

Lately though, I’m afraid she’s grown remiss

So, I’m waiting patiently for the day that she recalls

One more hug will be appreciated, in and of itself

But until then, I’m sitting here just watching everything

Just wishing and just hoping, on the shelf.

My heart

Ashley and Morgan; then and now

Ashley and Morgan; then and now

Chubby little hands, wet with slobber, getting caught in my hair

Up half the night rocking you with a prayer until the fever subsided

Chasing remnants of applesauce around your tiny lips with a tiny spoon

The spoon, now airborne and not because I’m pretending it’s a plane

Bath time;  soggy toys, towels and floors until you were like ten

Drying a wiggle worm until the towel drops and you run away giggling

Treating Boo boos with kisses and rug rat bandages and Neosporin

Riding bicycles and scooters and go karts and four-wheelers

Going to Little league, Church camp, school plays and sleepovers

Checking out library books and Disney movies and The Nutcracker

Reminding daily about baths and brushing teeth and hair

Blond hair whipping in the wind as we caught our share of fish

Driving cars and blasting music and growing up too fast

Never-ending showers that leave the rest of us mad and cold

Little Miss Know It All who doesn’t really have a clue

Late nights, some fights, long talks and lots of prayers

High school, sports, dances and dates

Increasing beauty, decreasing days before graduation and then…..

Empty nest, quiet house, too much time on our hands

Phone calls, holiday visits and lots of texts

Agree to disagree, offer advice but realize my limits

Heart breaks when you feel pain or struggle

Loving you long distance, looking forward to your next visit

Missing you, lots of reminiscing, tears and prayers

Grinning cones and tinkling music

found on pinterest

Found on pinterest

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “The Transporter.”

Tell us about a sensation — a taste, a smell, a piece of music — that transports you back to childhood.

I was shopping the other day and I heard a familiar cadre of notes that sounded similar to something I could play on a toy xylophone.  I paused and I remember craning my neck to search outside for the source of my déjà vu.  There it was in all its candy colored glory, slowly travelling down the street, biding time until the haunting melodies drew the masses into the streets.

A part of me wanted to run outside and scream, “Ice cream!” but the grown up side stayed put.

In my adolescent years, I lived in a very small town.  I am not sure how he broke even with the drive it took to get there, but we did get to experience the ice cream truck, albeit not as often as other larger towns.  Maybe that is why it was such a treat; it didn’t become so familiar and expected.

When you are anywhere from about 3 to 13 (well 13 if your friends weren’t around), the minute you heard that tinkling refrain, you yelled, “Moooommmmm! It’s the ice cream man!!” and then it took all of the patience you could muster to wait for her to find her purse and dole out the coins.  Yes, I said coins. I’m almost 50.

We always sidled up to the truck together with mom or granny or someone looking on.  We come from a family that was VERY thorough regarding stranger danger.  Sometimes my imagination took me for a wild ride of possibilities between that creepy music and the grinning cones, and what the ice creams man’s motives might be if he weren’t a nice guy.  Yes, parents, this is what we do to our children in the name of safety.

The hardest thing of all was choosing what you wanted.  There was strawberry shortcake and chocolate éclairs, bomb pops, drumsticks and fudgsicles and ice cream sandwiches.  Inevitably, you were going to wish you had picked what your brother or sister picked but if everyone was getting along, you might just get a taste of theirs anyway.

The excitement was short lived.  You finished your cone and it was back to reality; no more tinkling music and choosing of sweet dairy delights.  You always knew it would be back another day though and that was enough.  That is one of the things I miss about childhood; I was easily excited by the simplest things.

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