365 Days of Writing

One Sentence  It's been a busy day. 

Reflection  Poem -- We Stand Together Two months ago, my neighbourhood -- the one I lived in when I lived in Ukraine -- was attacked. Buildings destroyed. Piles of rubble everywhere. My building stood, but it was surreal to see the buildings torn apart or gone that had been part of my windows' view before. Today, the school where I worked suffered as a result of drones/missiles. The building itself wasn’t hit but an open area between the school and the front gate. Many of the windows overlooking the front of the school and the courtyard were destroyed. The front door was destroyed. There was a large divot where the ground was hit, dirt sprayed everywhere and what looks like some shrapnel embedded in the walls. It breaks my heart what has happened and continues to happen. This war. Below is a poem I wrote back in March 2022 but it still holds true today: With the people watching missiles fall watching their homes fall — We stand together. With the parents and children huddled in met...

  Poem -- Mummy, Let's Play We’ve folded the laundry. The dishes are put away. Little One coos, urging: ‘Come on Mummy! Let’s play!’ He lays on his play mat Toys scattered around. I pick up a ball. It makes a rattling sound. He tries to grab it, hold on And then put it in his mouth; But quickly the ball slips And rolls to the ground. We try again. ‘Somethings take practice,’ I say. And hold out the ball for him again Multiples tries are more than okay. Then he rolls over. It’s tummy time now. He has toys and books Out of reach in front of his brow. He kicks and he stretches Arms waving without care. He lifts his head: Active. Alert. And aware. Finally we pick up one of his favourite books. Reading the pages And under the flaps we look. Our foreheads are touching As we lay side by side. He’s laughing and giggling And I’m filled with pride. What a wonderful little one With which to spend the day. I feel so blessed when he coos: ‘Mummy, let’s play!’

  One Sentence Today I am thankful for so many things, but most of all my husband and my son. 

  Short Story -- The Christmas Party: Part 1 The finishing touch was candied orange peel. Tildi then started arranging the ginger spice cupcakes on the Christmas tree shaped plate in front of her. Completing that, she walked over and set them on long sideboard alongside all the other festive treats that she’d made for the evening. There were: a festive fruitcake bundt with a vanilla drizzle, snowflakes made out of pretzels and white chocolate, marshmallow snowmen, and a cranberry white chocolate trifle. The table had a red and gold runner down the centre. And there were sprigs of evergreen and pinecones as decorations. She was pleased with how it looked and — having sampled everything or at least components of everything before setting it out — how it tasted, too. The fairy had invited over a few of her closest friends for an evening of Christmas themed games and food. And they’d be arriving any minute. Tildi turned her attention to the rest of the room. A cosy fire was burning in ...

  Short Story -- Monkshood Manor: Part 5 An appointment was set up to meet with Mr Reed the following morning. In preparation, Teddy made her way back to the study with a stopover in the drawing room. She collected all the papers and envelopes from the secretary desk, trying to keep them as organised as possible as she transported them. The door to the study was already open. A fire had been lit in hearth. And there was a pot of coffee along with a thick slice of Victoria sponge on a tray resting near the arm chairs. Teddy set the papers on one of the chairs, poured herself a cup of coffee and then turned to the large desk behind her. There were very few papers on top, but she carefully moved the cup of pens and few Knick-knacks to the mantle. Then she took the papers from the chair and her cup of coffee and set them on the desk. ‘Let’s see what we’ve got,’ Teddy said to herself. Looking at the top paper, it appeared to be a menu for a week, as were the next couple of sheets. Curio...

Short Story -- Cooking Class  ‘I can always tell where people are from based on what time they arrive,’ the man said coming in through a door on her right. ‘I’m Carlos,’ he added, extending his hand. ‘Sam,’ she replied, giving his hand a shake. ‘You’re the American.’ It should have been a question but he said it as a statement. And she nodded. He continued, ‘Americans are always early.’ Looking at the clock on the wall, Sam noticed there were ten minutes until the class was set to begin. She cooked quite a bit at home, so she thought a cooking class would be a fun way to learn a bit about local food and maybe culture. Carlos continued, ‘There will be two Germans and an Italian joining you tonight.’ The Germans arrived right on the hour when the class was scheduled to start and the Italian entered the room a few minutes later. ‘Before we go into the kitchen and start cooking,’ Carlos said, ‘Let’s introduce ourselves a bit. Please say your name and why you are interested in a cooking...

Short Story -- The Perfect Tree Snow crunched under her feet as she walked through the forest. The trees glistened and sparkled in the winter sun. And breathing made a small cloud appear in front her every time she exhaled. Aside from the sound of her feet on the snow, the forest was quiet. She saw prints in the snow though: the little letter like ones of birds hoping around, a straight line of hoof prints from a deer, the small paw prints of squirrels. This part of the forest was mainly oaks and maples. They were beautiful, tall, strong trees, but not what she wanted today. An axe rested sturdily on her shoulder. Today she was in search of the perfect Christmas tree. It was going to be her first Christmas living in her little cabin on an acre of land that was mostly forest. She continued a little further until she came to a patch of pines along a clearing. Some people might be worried about walking through a newly acquired forest, fearing getting lost. But not her. She had always felt...

Short Story -- Monkshood Manor: Part 4   The next morning, after a breakfast of granola, yoghurt and fresh fruit, along with some pensive mulling of the previous night’s letter, Teddy made her way to the main entrance. It really was an impressive space, with its black and white chess board of tiles, dark wood panelling and tapestries, impressive mahogany staircase, and enormous crystal chandelier. Walking closer to one of the tapestries to examine it, Teddy noticed it seemed to be of a hunt with a pack of ferocious looking dogs barking at an enraged boar. The hunters on horseback weren’t far behind, one with a horn leading the charge. There was a house in the background… and it resembled Monkshood Manor. Although it was small enough that Teddy couldn’t be sure. ‘Whenever you’re ready, Miss,’ Mr Drey’s basso voice rang again the silence. ‘How does he do that?’ Teddy wondered silently. Aloud she said, ‘Ready when you are.’ ‘Up the grand staircase,’ Mr Drey said, ‘You can find 40 bedr...

  One Sentence Today I'm feeling nostalgic for places I've lived before and also so grateful and blessed for the life I have now with my husband and son. 

  Poem -- Motherhood  My eyes are so heavy; They fight to stay awake. My body is tired. I have a headache. But it is all worth it When I see you smile And giggle and coo You say: Let’s play for a while. So here I am now Next to you on the floor: Staring at lights Or reading books some more. I help you roll over. You hold things in your hand. Right now it is play time  So you’re in command. You start to fuss And I pick you up. You just want some cuddles. I give you a hug. And suddenly now You’re smiling again. Your eyes saying: I love you Mummy! That’s my biggest win. Sometimes we get chores done Other days not as much. But still you are growing And learning so much! I love you my Little One! And not just today. Always, forever In my heart you will always be.

  Short Story -- Monkshood Manor: Part 3 Back in her room, Teddy closed the door behind her, turned the lock and let out a sigh.  She put on her pyjamas and pair of colourful fuzzy socks and then padded over to one of the armchairs by the fire, which was still blazing in the fireplace.  Settling into the chair, she wished that she’d asked for a hot chocolate or even a glass of water. Teddy was certain she could summon Mr Drey, but she was too tired for that interaction. Instead, she decided to put on her slippers and take herself to the kitchen.  Slippers and robe on. She unlocked the door and looked both ways before quietly stepping out into the hallway. She felt like a young girl again who was sneaking out of bed without permission.  ‘Don’t be silly,’ she chided herself in a whisper. ‘You own this house now. You can do what you want.’  And as she finished her sentence, the door clicked shut behind her. She jumped. As her hand hadn’t been on the handle. It...