As I stood under the eaves and waited for the dog to relieve herself in the dark, cold rain, I realized something.  I’ve been trying to hard. While there is no doubt that there are many areas of my life in which I could do more and try harder, I wasn’t thinking of that kind of perseverance.     This trying-too-hard isn’t visible in the tangible, physical sense.  This trying-too-hard is mental and done within the space between my ears.  It is attitude, pure and simple, and it is my attitude that often makes me feel miserable.

Before I had time to really sit with this thought and write it out, I checked e-mails and found this quote at the end of a post over at  JoAnn Rothman writes,

“Stop thinking about what you are meant to do and start thinking about what you want to do. That is the way to live your purpose. “

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Story Complications

Life  is rarely simple.   A lot of its plot lines reach odd dead ends.  Some strands of my life will always remain incomplete and unfinished.  Literature talks ceaselessly about the beginning, middle and end.  It’s what confines a story and makes it what it is.  My life resists such structure.  There are things I will never understand.  Things that will not have an ending or what seems to be an ending. Yet, still I try.

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The Curtain

Sunday morning.  The curtain between sleep and wakefulness is made of iron.  Reluctant to face the realities of the new day, I drift in the land of words and ideas.  They provide comfort, a barrier against life.  I hesitate to open the curtain and greet my day.  The force of truth keeps nudging me.  In pajamas and a comfortable old chair, I finish my latest read, The Other by David Guterson.

Escape eludes me.  The book ends up reading me as I read it.  This thought gives rise to others in a similar vein.  Each make me uncomfortable.  Truth often has a way of shaking us loose.  We can be comfortable no longer.

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55 Words

I’m back working part-time in a local high school.  The Freshman English class is working on the 55-word story assignment.  I love this assignment.

Since I’m really tired tonight and an economy of words seem like a wise choice, I’m going to share my 55-word story and some links to web site that can provide you with more 55-word stories, etc.  Enjoy!

Cheyenne looks down at her lifeless body on the cold, wet sand.  Alec sits hunched over her.  Tears stream down his face. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he sobs.

Cheyenne says softly, “But you did.”

He doesn’t hear her.  In the distance sirens howl.   The world fades to black.  Darkness covers everything.”


For more 55-word or less fiction, see:

The Amazing-55-Word-Story Contest


I am the person behind the words printed here. I write because my heart will not allow me the option of NOT writing. It has taken me half a life time to discover this basic truth, but now that I have, writing is as natural as breathing. This is where my breath takes the form of words.


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The Miracle Morning: The Not-So-Obvious Secret Guaranteed to Transform Your Life (Before 8AM)
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