Another 5 Word Story

Grandma's House

Pulling into the driveway, memories make me gasp for air. Can anyone know the love that happened here? The maple tree out front where I discovered how to make noses out of its seedlings, and felt carefree enough to jump in its leaves, stands exquisitely rigid demonstrating its stability. Its branches reaching for the heavens as if to pull down the home’s occupants for one last joyful jump. The metal gate scrapes against its barrier, gives way, and creaks its opening, I am greeted by the paint-thin, red, splintering porch swing where I learned of mustard seeds. Salted mackerel taste still on my tongue. So pickled, my fists clench in response. The key--reliably found in the metal wash basin containing the watering can and long forgotten gardening gloves-- Weighted in my hand this time, turning reluctantly in its receptacle. Smells of life and of death hit me, breaking a bone. Clean laundry folded, food spoiling in the tras...

Lessons I've Learned About Writing

When I first started writing again, I was surprised to learn how many preconceptions I had regarding the process. I dug deep and made a list of the lessons I have learned. The biggest lesson being that you can learn about writing. I had always believed one either had a gift for writing or one did not. I had always envied those that had it, placing myself in the lacking column. Through the class, I feel I have grown and discovered that it is a craft that can be honed with exposure to loose formulas, examples, and exercises. Another concrete lesson I learned was restraint. The need to tell every detailed process or portion isn’t as necessary as I had believed it to be. I feel I have mastered the difference between what adds to the writing and what is an unnecessary distraction. This lesson also crossed over into my life as well. As much excitement and passion I feel about my writing...

Diary of a Mom at Christmas: An Emotional Journey into Madness By: Nicole Heim, said Mom

Parking outside of my childhood home, hunkered down in my car, with a box of tissues ( why did I not splurge for the extra soft, is a question I will struggle with for a long time as I nurse my chapped nose), I once again wonder what all of this is for. It’s December 19--six days before Christmas. For not the last time (and certainly not the first that week), I wondered how I would survive the next few days. I did not get here intentionally, as few mad people do. What started out as a true willingness to help others, a wanting passion for tradition, and my insatiable need for achievement, coupled with my foolish optimism and talent for procrastination, created the perfect calamity. My desire to know I am not alone inspired me to keep this journal of descent. Please read with a dose of humor, a lack of judgment, a whole lot of empathy, and perhaps a glass of wine. Thursday morning, November 24. Thanksgiving Day. Today is the offi...

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