“Happy Birthday, Ma.”
The phone had rung ten times before she’d picked up. “Oh, hi. Hang on a sec…”
Cell on the counter, she cooed at Herman, “Ah, sweet boy… Do you want a widdle tweat?”
It wasn’t a second before she returned, or a minute. It was a lifetime.
Laura Levin lives in New York’s Hudson Valley where she teaches writing as an adjunct professor. She has an MA from the Writing Seminars at Johns Hopkins University.
too old to drive,
that’s what my daughters told me
when they took away my keys
my dignity
my freedom
in a heartbeat
all my choices disappeared
boredom set in
as suddenly my world became
four walls
tv, radio, the cat
and me
just sitting,
existing in hushed silence…
waiting
Roberta Beach Jacobson, 73, is looking ahead.
My memories are all that I have now. The dust of a long lifetime coating the writing table of my mind, afraid of the slightest breeze or sneeze sending it all back in to the universe, mixing with all the random memories of those who have sneezed and breezed before.
Jimmy is a writer from Portland, Oregon. Having worked in the horticultural side of life for over 30 years, he is now working on a book about his backpacking adventures around South Asia in the early 1990’s.
Ruth looks much older than her 70 years. Infirmity shrinks her flesh, leaving a canvas of taut skin, applying time like sallow make-up around her eyes and neck. She brushes her hair before getting into the bed – in case of visitors. But until they come, she will sleep a little.
Dave Bradley’s words have appeared in publications such as Best Of British Science Fiction and Dorling Kindersley’s The Screen Traveller’s Guide, as well as various pop culture magazines and websites.
The sun shines down on trail-walking tree-hugging leaf-swishing green and wave-wading sand-sinking shell-seeking blue while memory-lost family-forgotten depression-ridden gray looks through cloudy eyes and clouded windows at rain-cloud skies. Wake up! Be the blue-gray mist on a morning meadow; be the green-gray sage of eucalyptus. Embrace gray to the end.
Lori O’Brien, an English and Creative Writing student at SNHU, gets her inspiration walking along the ocean in coastal New Hampshire and hanging out with her senior miniature poodle, Artie. Her work has been published in Snoozine Magazine.
Daylight is preparing to exit the stage. The clouds are settling in for the night, and the sun is getting ready to take a sink. I’m riding in a tricycle caressed by the wind, embracing the moment. Soon, twilight will summon its elements, and I will step through its door.
Thompson Emate spends his leisure time on creative writing, particularly poetry and prose. He is trying his hand at every genre of fiction. He lives in Lagos Nigeria.
In the nursing home, she describes what she’s been up to: floating along the canals of Venice, wandering through the streets of Rome. “I know I’m not, but I think I am,” she tells my mother.
We know she’s there, but we think she’s here, in Maryland with us.
Nina Feinberg is a writer, photographer and distance runner. She lives in Brooklyn, NY and works in user experience design.
“I don’t like this place,” said my 100-year-old mom. She lives in an ARF. “I’m going to leave soon.”
“You’re lonely,” I responded. “I understand loneliness. Have you tried connecting with God?”
“Oh, don’t give me that mushy God talk.
I want to go home and be with my mother.”
A former journalist, Maria Miller is working on a novel while enjoying life in Spain.
A baby. A beginning. Exciting! Eager anticipation of the end goal: Adulthood! Every growth step welcomed.
If lucky, the journey continues, rewards received: Grandchildren! Cute and cuddly morphing into talented and fun. Finite time parenting yielding eternity of grandparent ecstasy.
Then, horrific awareness. No one prepared us. Grandchildren grow up!
Eileen was dazed when the truth was revealed. Boyfriends, girlfriends, drivers’ licenses, graduations, jobs, even marriages. Suddenly, outings and stories and sleep overs had become history, and the toys have become dust collectors.
A flick of the wrist brings a new page, new number, possible new beginnings. Can one calendar page make me a year older? Does it matter? Admitting to the day might result in friendly celebrations or freebies from businesses trawling for customers. Others don’t need the real numbers. Do they?
Eileen comes from a family that puts great store in celebrating birthdays, even during the pandemic.