WORDS

Words.

They hold tremendous power.

They are both tools to build,

And weapons to destroy.

One simple word can break a heart or cut a soul

Or ensure forever.

Through them lives can change and thoughts can grow.

Every day they change the world.

Every day they are given and lost to deaf ears.

Words, they hold the key to connection.

They are the building blocks of stories,

The most tangible form of ideas and feelings.

Wherever they are given, laughter and tears echo through their wake.

Words can lift spirits high or crush them beneath despair.

Released into the air, they can be shared.

Released onto paper they can be shared with thousands.

They have the ability to soar above the clouds or sink deep into the shadows, to fight battle and to win affection.

They stir the heart and teach the unknown.  

They are treasure that must be spent wisely,

For they hold the power to change, to hope, to love, to hate, to feel, to believe.

With words, one can do anything,

Or be anyone.

My Greatest Moment

For me, greatness does not come on a stage in front of a thousand cheering people. It does not wear a shiny suit or diamonds. It does not stand above others.

Greatness is found within. My greatest moment was not made by me. It was a gift. The gift of humility.

My greatest moment was also my lowest.

That moment when I saw that true treasure does not come from me, but is within me.

Weekly Word Count

Total word count: 8,065

He smiled, that slow subtle curve of his mouth.

  “You’re so beautiful this evening Tera.”

Beautiful. Yes, so beautiful. Empty words that meant nothing. Smirking, he leaned in to whisper in my ear. “But if I didn’t know better, I’d say you didn’t look quite the blushing bride.” He laughed, enjoying the charade. I stared back at him, lips unsmiling and eyes unblinking. My cold gaze unnerved him, as it always did, and he turned back to his wine and the other dinner guests. I smiled. As long as he was afraid of me, I was safe. But the ring on my, finger weighed heavy. It was constrictive, a cage.

   I tugged at it, but it held fast. If I had some soap I could probably slip it off my thin finger, but not without, for he’d bought the band two sizes too small.  I gave up on the ring and sipped my champagne slowly, my mind spiraling through a series of panicked thoughts. Looking around the table, I saw all the laughing faces of my family and friends. I twisted that ring again, the spot on my finger growing raw.

  He stood. Silence fell over the table, and I felt an iron hand squeezing the life out of my heart.

   “Dear friends, thank you so much for being here today.” That slow curve spread across his mouth again, twisting my gut.  “My lovely bride and I could not be happier, and tomorrow I believe we will have the wedding of the century.” Everyone cheered. The rich champagne made my head fuzzy. I could hear every beating heart in the room, the grating merriment and poisonous laugher screaming in my ears. Panic rising, I was about to jump up from that table and run when I felt warmth in my hand. Startled, I looked down and saw that my finger was covered in blood, the perfect diamond splattered in red.

  “Tera.”

My head flew up. He was holding out his hand for me, and everyone was silent at last, waiting expectantly. I offered my right hand, tucking the left out of sight. He pulled me up.

  “It’s now or never my darling.”

He kissed me, but the kiss was a death sentence. His or mine, I didn’t know yet.

Oops

I stuttered. After all, what could I say?

“Mr. Parker, did you or did you not steal that bicycle?”

The store manager, the sheriff, and my father all stared menacingly down at me, their tall figures looming above. I could read the disappointment and anger in my father’s eyes. I can explain Dad! I wanted to shout. But I couldn’t.

So I nodded yes.

The police officer, Mr. Hardy, shook his head. 

  “Well, son I’m afraid I’m going to have to fine your father and work something out with Mrs. Janie so’s you can stay after school for a bit. Maybe help out in the park to keep it cleaned up or something.” He turned to Dad. “I’m sorry, Parker. I never expected this.”

  I could see my father’s rage growing. Some father’s faces turned red and purple when they were angry. My father’s face turned white, and his eyebrows suddenly grew blacker. I grimaced.  Today was not going to be a fun day.

  You see, my dad was the mayor of our town. A small town. We’re talking Mayberry size here. I mean, this would have been one of those really uncomfortable episodes of Andy Griffith where Opie is caught stealing something and Andy’s all disappointed in him, being the sheriff’s son and all.

  Well that was my dad. Everybody knows everybody in Shorewood, and the Mayor was mighty embarrassed to have Mr. Hardy the sheriff and Mr. Watson the sporting goods store manager catch his son stealing.  You see, he knew that they would both go home and tell their wives, who would tell other wives, who would tell any wives left in Shorewood who hadn’t heard yet, who would eventually tell Mama. And then my mama would cry, which would be worse than my father being angry or the whole town thinking me a thief or all the kids at school being sore at me, put together.

 I swallowed hard as me and my father got into his car. This day was about to get even worse.

Music Magic

Music fills the soul as water fills the ocean.

One cannot exist without the other.

They are bound together, for without song, how can soul exist?

A melody lifts my spirit on wings, soaring far, far, to another world completely, a world where anything is possible.

That world drifts on the day-dreams of treble and bass, scales and lyrics, rhyme and rhythm, tempo and tune, but so, so much more.

Essence and character, broken hearts poured into every note. All that I am, sung with the voices of the songbirds, dances to the harmonies of that musical world.

Free to fly anywhere, song takes wing to the domain of fantasy. Hazy visions and life-long prayers bound to the page and set to score, come to life and soar to the skies.

Sweet and pure music floats through me, my being leaping. Joy, fear, hope, desire, mystery. They mingle and swirl through my head and my heart.

My heart beats fast, its pace resounding to that of the tune, my soul stirring inside.

All that I am reflected within music, it hides just beneath the surface of the song.

Voices hum and cry, ascending to the heights of love, and falling to the darkness of despair. Every feeling, every fear, every brightest hope is caught up in the magic of music.

Its beauty captivates, elevates.

Music and soul. Like water and the ocean.

One cannot exist without the other.

My soul flies on the wings of melody,

Bearing me wherever I might wish to soar.  

Mama Waves Goodbye

Flowers dance on the breeze

But tears are burning my eyes.

The summer sun shines too bright mocking me, laughing.

She waves goodbye, but the wave is absent.

She’s not thinking about me at all.

I swallow my fears as best I can, but the world is swallowing me.

I’m alone. My mama fades into the distance.

The lady smiles down at me, her large gray teeth like a beaver’s.

She is a friend, but she’s not my mama.

I can’t help it, the tears stream down my face.

She calls me honey.

That’s my mama’s nickname for me, and this lady isn’t my mama.

I face the world so big, so dark. The lady helps me out of the car.

But I only want to go home to my mama.

To a child, the first time you leave mama is hard.

I get out of the car. I see my best friend. We eat cookies.

And mama is forgotten until the next morning

When I give her a big hug.

And all is right in the world again.