Inside the Mind of Isadora


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WDYS – Thomas Reads Aloud

#WhatDoYouSee #139

Teachers saw the possibilities in Thomas. From the first day he entered the classroom, he was enthusiastic about learning everything there was to learn. 

His mother had always taken pride in the way he looked. His father wore vests, and collared shirts, Thomas wanted to wear them too. When she heard the children would be reading from their primer on Friday, she was as excited as Thomas but nervous too. 

Had he sufficiently learned to read after three months? 

She thought he was bright, but she was his mother. After all, he was only 6. 

She began to have thoughts of her own mother’s words:

A child is like a butterfly in the wind.

Some can fly higher than others

But, each one flies the best it can.

Why compare one to another?

Each one is different.

Each one is special.

Each one is beautiful.

She decided to have faith in her little Thomas.

2022©Isadora Delavega

The Power of Reading

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For Sadje’s ‘What Do You See’ Challenge 

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                                                           Image credit: Ben White @ Unsplash

 

 


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WDYS – Remember & Return to Me

#WhatDoYouSee

Who are You?

I see you in the broken mirrored glass.

My eyes express my fragmented edges. 

Where has the very rational, 

patient, and very curious person gone?

My desire to learn and meet new challenges is gone. 

He will return after the world settles again.

Our freedoms are stolen because, in war, there isn’t a choice. 

Our life’s emotions are destroyed and stripped away, separating us.

Remember and return to me. 

2022©Isadora Delavega

 

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For Sadje’s ‘What Do You See’ Challenge 

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                                                           Image credit: Amine M’Siouri @ Pexels

 

 


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Learning to Swim

Summer is freedom for a child. Your school vacation begins.

No more homework, no more tests, and no more uniforms. I attended

Catholic school, wearing shorts and t-shirts was a respite from formality.

My family lived in an area of three-story brownstones in Brooklyn, N.Y. Pools weren’t anywhere in my neighborhood. There was a pool within a twenty-five minute bus ride. We never went there.

Sunday was our beach day in the summer. My father loved the beach. 

Despite our no school discipline, he had a routine we had to follow.

We still attended mass on Saturday.

Sunday, we’d awake at 6:00 a.m., get dressed, grab our towels, pails, and shovels and be in the car at 7:00 a.m. It was an hour’s drive to Staten Island on a ferry. It was such fun to get out of the car and lean on the railing, feeling the ocean’s mist on my face. 

Once we arrived at the beach, we all had items to carry to the water’s edge. My father cooked potato salad and fried chicken the night before. He was a cook in the army. He enjoyed cooking on the weekends. I was learning how to cook from him at age 5. 

My task at the beach was to take care of my younger disabled brother. He was five years old, and I was ten. I’d collect shells with him and build things in the sand.

One Sunday, my father decided to teach all of us to swim. We watched him from the shore. He looked like a dolphin. I was apprehensive even though it looked like fun. It was my turn. He picked me up and took me way, way out. Eventually, he dropped me in the water. 

Gurgle, Gurgle, Gurgle,

I swallowed water, flailed my arms, and thought I would drown.

After an eternity, my father picked me back up and walked me to shore. I cried and cried and cried. I was inconsolable. I never went in the water again. The sandy seashore was my safe place from that day forward. 

I never did learn to swim, but I do doggie paddle in my pool. Many have tried to teach me, but my fear still lingers from that day. When my children could walk, I took them for swimming lessons. They’re all great swimmers, and one is Red Cross certified. I knew how much they would enjoy the beach, pool, and boating if they learned how to swim. 

Learning to Swim never happened for me.

2022©Isadora DeLaVega

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Throw Back Thursday  April 14, 2022 # 34 – Learning to Swim

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Her Name is Ruby

#WhatDoYouSee

She’s pensive. 

He wonders if she’s unhappy with the long stem red roses. The florist had assured him that all women loved red roses. 

She seems deep in thought. 

He was hoping for a big smile and the touch of her soft hand on his. Instead, I’m feeling the Cabernet slide down my tightly muscled throat. Dating is difficult, but meeting for the first time in person instead of on Face Time felt awkward.

Ruby wondered if he could feel her angst.

She loathed her name. She was tired of being told it was an intense color. The only thing she felt strongly about was her angry resentment for her mother. She was a prostitute who wore ruby red colors because the men she accompanied prized the color, especially on her curvy body.

Was this a joke my mother played on me?

The name Ruby means nothing to me. It’s the color of blood, a sign of death. A death I would take pleasure in if it just happened to her by chance.

 Yes, red long-stemmed roses from Randolph would have been lovely if she didn’t hate the color.

Smiling, she squeezes Randolph’s hand. “Thank you for the lovely flowers. You shouldn’t have”.

2022©Isadora DeLaVega

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For Sadje’s ‘What Do You See’ Challenge 

to join in click here

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                                                           Image credit: Olga Solodilova @ Unsplash

 

 


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Friday Fictioneers – Big Town Dreams

Lorna May dreamt about the places she’d travel to once she left this small town.

The Ford pickup always needed fixing. It worked fine when they were riding around town, but Dillon wanted her ready for our big city adventures. 

His daddy told him he could have the truck when he turned 18. No lie, he handed him the keys right after they cut the cake. 

Laying on the flatbed, we’d look up at the stars, dreaming about the places we’d see.

I never did get to see those big towns. 

Dillon ran off into a ditch. He died instantly.

2022©Isadora DeLaVega

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Genre: Flash Fiction

Word Count: 100

Photo Prompt:©Bill Reynolds

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Friday Fictioneers – Deadly Date

Selena was excited they were finally going on a date. 

Vlad texted, meet me at The Glass Dome Diner. 

Her overly strict mom would be livid if she knew.  She’d sneak out the back door. 

I hope Vlad is as amiable as his poems.

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“Feel like a walk before we eat something,” he said.

“Okay.”

 His arm cradled my shoulder as we walked.

“Let me get my cellphone in the car.” 

“Okay.”

Shock and fear engulfed me when he slid the side door open.

Inside, crying girls with taped mouths and hands were all she could see. 

Terror overwhelmed her.

2022©Isadora DeLaVega

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Genre:Flash Fiction

Word Count: 100

Photo Prompt:©Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

To join Rochelle and her Friday Fictioneers 

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*****January is National Human Trafficking Prevention Month

***** Human Trafficking – is the trade of humans for the purpose of forced labor, sexual slavery, commercial sexual exploitation, child labor and marriages, debt forced marriages, wife forced prostitution or bride buying. Human trafficking can occur within a country or trans-nationally. Human trafficking is a crime against the person because of the violation of the victim’s rights of movement through coercion and because of their commercial exploitation. ©wikipedia

***** Trafficking Leaves Both Visible and Invisible Scars

  • Trafficked women and girls encounter high rates of physical and sexual violence, including homicide and torture, psychological abuse, horrific work and living conditions, and extreme deprivation while in transit.
  • Serious mental health problems result from trafficking, including anxiety, depression, self-injurious behavior, suicidal ideation and suicide, drug and alcohol addiction, post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), dissociative disorders and complex PTSD.
  • Physical symptoms among trafficking victims include neurological issues, gastrointestinal disturbances, respiratory distress, chronic pain, sexually transmitted diseases (including HIV), uro-genital problems, dental problems, fractures and traumatic brain injuries.©apa.org https://www.apa.org/advocacy/interpersonal-violence/trafficking-women-girls/


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Friday Fictioneers – I Love You

Standing here, I’m wrapped in your woodsy pulp scent. 

You captivate me with your unique shape.

You fit in my hands like a glove wraps around fingers. 

Leather or cardboard bound, your composition is perfection.

Every second I’m with you is like an unknown paradise. 

You fulfill my every need and want. 

With you, I am alive.

 I can be here or anywhere.

 If I’m around the world, you are with me. 

Your words wander through my mind.

You create memories on every page.

 I want to remember them forever.

For you, my love will never die.

I Love You

 2022©Isadora De La Vega

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Genre:Flash Fiction

Word Count: 100

Photo Prompt:©Ted Strutz

To join Rochelle and her Friday Fictioneers 

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Friday Fictioneers – The Wrong Side

 

Anthony, Dad wants you to pile the wood he chopped last Saturday.

I watched him as he went to the barn for the wheel-barrow. The doctors said to keep him active, and his hyper-active behavior will calm down. Many kids with ADHD become productive adults. 

It had snowed the night before. Pushing the wheel-barrow was tough. 

He was done and stood proud as he viewed his work.

Momma, come on out to see the woodpile.

Bewildered, she hid her emotions.

Anthony, my sweet boy, you’ve added the woodpile to the front of the house instead of the back.

2021©Isadora De La Vega

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Genre: Flash Fiction

Word Count: 100

Photo Prompt:DaleRogerson

To join Rochelle and her Friday Fictioneers 

in this challenge: click here

 


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No Words Left

It’s been a year now. 

As I put the key in the door, I remember the day I realized I had to move in. 

My father had always been demanding. I was reluctant to take on the responsibility.

Sure, I could have added him to the long list of seniors waiting for a room at the senior assisted living. But, after all, he was my dad. 

 On that summer morning, my father tried to open the neighbors’ door, helping me make my decision. 

His memory was fading. Confused and exasperated, he called. I knew he was desperate. He would never admit his decline.

After he died, an older gentleman approached me at the wake.

He said, “You’re a good son.”

Sadly, Alzheimer’s had prevented my father from telling me.

2021©Isadora DeLaVega

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Heartbreak and Pain

Like scattered petals fallen to the ground, 

My heart needs the pieces put back together. 

Your words erased my existence.

Now, I can be free.

For you are gone,

And, I will never speak your words.

When I was young, 

You held me captive.

You cannot hurt me now, 

Nor do I scare.

Love does not dominate

It cultivates and cares.

I will not ever have your love, 

But I have someone who cares.

2021©Isadora DeLaVega

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Every Wednesday, Crispina will post a photo like this one above.

You are to respond with something CREATIVE

Crimson’s Creative Challenge #157

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