Inside the Mind of Isadora


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CCC – Her Sunflower Smile

Crimson Creative Challenge #191

Talia was stunned when she saw how well the sunflowers had grown.
It had been a few weeks since she visited the house her grandmother had left her when she died.

Trying to fix the house and move in was too painful right now. She kept telling her mother, “One day, Mom, one day.”

As a little child, she watched her grandmother, Mariana, cook traditional Italian meals while recounting tales of her journey to this new land she would be calling home.

She told Talia, “We traveled by boat for weeks on a crowded ship.
Many hungry immigrants had few belongings. The small number of sunflower seeds she brought to eat was almost gone by the time they arrived.

Mariana was bewildered by the new language, new customs, and their style of clothing.

She planted the leftover sunflower seeds from her journey to remember the home she had left behind.

They grew tall and massive compared to the ones in Italy.

Talia never forgot her grandmother’s love of sunflowers.

She remembered her smile was as big as a sunflower.

Talia planted sunflowers at her grave.

2022©Isadora Delavega

Crimson Creative Challenge – #191

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Friday Fictioneers – Make Magic Happen

The funeral was exactly the way my grandmother wanted.

She pre-paid and planned it all before she died.

Always the forward-thinking woman, no one would be able to leave any details out.

The rose garden was to be her final resting place.

She’d say, “Where else would I want to be? These roses have helped me create beautiful paintings that will live on in the homes of many long after I’m gone.”

Her garden was magical. She could grow colorful varieties.

I’m sure she’s looking down at us and saying, “Pick up a paintbrush and make magic happen.”

2022©Isadora DeLaVega

 

Genre: Flash Fiction

Word Count: 100

photo prompt©Dale Rogerson

 

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Friday Fictioneers – Memories

Standing in the middle of the family room, I close my eyes.

Breathing deeply, I can almost smell the warmth of bread baking while pies cool on the window sill.

I can imagine being awakened by the aromatic brew of fresh coffee.

I can’t help but wonder about the many evenings after dinner when my grandmother would gather the children and impart her wisdom with stories of her native homeland and traditions.

It’s damp inside now.

Rain begins to fall, the sound against the tin roof echos a melody.

With all of my senses aroused, I embrace the warm sentiments.

2022©Isadora DeLaVega

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Genre: Flash Fiction

Word Count: 100

Photo Prompt:©LisaFox

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The morning mist of light rain chills the damp air. The sprinkles fall like fairy dust.

Somber moans of grief echoing in the silence mimic the sound of metal thumps.

Our hearts shattered into aching pieces with memories of her kindly, gentle spirit.  

The dark holes of fragmented pieces felt in each of us.

Grandmother would have called this a celebration of her life.

‘No tears, no sorrow for my death, just joyful memories of my days,’ she’d say.

Grandmother’s friends were remembering her vibrant life.

A dark hole of broken hearts forever silences her wise words in the end.

2021©Isadora De La Vega

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Genre: Flash Fiction

Word Count: 100 words

Photo:©Ted Strutz

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*****The elderly continue to be the biggest victims of this dreaded pandemic that we’re still in the midst of experiencing. My daughter is a counselor at a hospice hospital in Albany, NY. The deaths are staggering. Please get vaccinated and wear masks.