Never forget where you’ve been
Never lose sight of where you’re going
And, never take for granted
The people who travel
The journey with you
©anonymous
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Challenge:
Every Wednesday Crispina will post a photo like this one above.
You respond with something CREATIVE
to join in click here
Walking around 42nd street in Manhattan with Amanda can be trying.
New York City is the hustle and bustle of people.
Hawkers get in your space, enticing you to buy items that may or may not be legal.
Why did Tom tell me to go out for a walk while he was at his meeting?
“Mama, look at that fun shop. There’s big glasses in the window.”
“No, Amanda, it isn’t a children’s shop.”
“What kind of a shop is it, Mama?”
“It’s an adult shop; children aren’t allowed. Let’s go to Rockefeller Center; there’s an American Girl Doll store.”
2021©Isadora De La Vega
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Genre:Flash Fiction
Word Count: 100
Photo Prompt:RogerBultot
To join Rochelle and her Friday Fictioneers
in this challenge: click here
*****American Girl Doll – “The American Girl experience is more than just a collection of toys. It is a collection of magical moments filled with goodness—moments that will nourish a little girl’s spirit, send her imagination soaring, and make her dreams come true.”—Pleasant T. Rowland
When Pleasant founded American Girl in 1986, she believed that great stories with aspirational characters could inspire girls to make their own positive mark on the world—and she was right. Since then, we’ve been a trusted partner in empowering girls with confidence and character. ©PleasantT.Rowland
I wish for a road
That is sunny and clear,
Filled with love’s blessings
And, friends who are dear.
I wish for blue skies.
And fields filled with flowers,
Fragrance and colors
To last seasonal hours.
It happens; I like
A mist on my face,
It’s a way to enjoy
Heaven’s embrace.
And soon, as time passes.
The season will change,
To welcome a crisp wintery stage
When life may not seem so sublime.
Most of all, I’m enthralled.
By a soft, fragrant flower,
That dances from Heaven
And sets hearts aglow.
I will never forget.
The joy and the glee,
I feel in my soul
As you give your love to me.
2021©Isadora DeLaVega
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Challenge:
Every Wednesday Crispina will post a photo like this one above.
You respond with something CREATIVE
Crimson’s Creative Challenge #152
to join in click here
August 21, 1963, was the first day of my senior year.
I was in awe of the academy the week before when I had met with Mother Superior.
My mom and I stood before the twelve-foot gates with ornate handles and locks at the entrance. It was medieval.
Upon entering, we were directed to a small chapel for prayer before speaking to Mother Superior. Although more like a chapel, it was mesmerizing in its elaborate baroque style.
As we left, we could hear the Benedictine monks chanting in the courtyard.
A year-long immersion in the chant was a benediction.
2021©Isadora De La Vega
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Genre: Non-Fiction
Word Count: 101
Photo Prompt:DaleRogerson
To join Rochelle and her Friday Fictioneers
in this challenge: click here
The carpenter we hired to help us restore an old farmhouse had just finished a rough first day on the job. A flat tire made him lose an hour of work, his electric saw quit, and now his beat-up pickup truck refused to start.
While we drove him home, he sat in stony silence.
On arriving, he invited us in to meet his family.
As we walked toward the front door, he paused briefly at a small tree, touching the tips of the branches with both hands.
When he opened the door, he underwent an amazing transformation. His tanned face is a wreath in smiles as he hugs his two small children and kisses his wife.
Afterward, he walks us to the car. We pass the tree, and my curiosity gets the better of me. I asked him about what I had seen him do earlier.
“Oh, that’s my trouble tree,” he replied.” I know I can’t help having troubles on the job and in life, but one thing’s for sure, problems don’t belong in the house with my wife and the children. So I hang them on the tree every night when I come home. Then in the morning, I pick them up again.”
He paused. “Funny thing is,” he smiled, “When I come out in the morning to pick ’em up, there ain’t nearly as many as I remember hanging up the night before.” ©anonymous
2021©Isadora DeLaVega
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Challenge:
Every Wednesday Crispina will post a photo like this one above.
You respond with something CREATIVE
to join in click here
Knowledge is like a garden;
if not cultivated,
it cannot be harvested.
©Isadora DeLaVega
Challenge:
Every Wednesday Crispina will post a photo like this one above.
You respond with something CREATIVE
to join in click here
Come on, Sandy.
No, I don’t want to get in trouble.
It’s beautiful down by the lake at this time.
No! I mean it.
There’s canoeing and paddling.
I don’t know how to do any of that.
We don’t either. We can learn together.
Ed, Lila, and Ralph begged me to go.
Persuaded, I caved.
I didn’t paddle or canoe but watching the eagles flying above us made it all worthwhile.
In the end, I was happy I’d gone along.
In terror, I stood before my mom’s angry face.
I knew my awful fate by the look on her face.
2021©Isadora DeLaVega
Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 100
Photo Prompt:KristaStrutz
To join Rochelle and her Friday Fictioneers
in this challenge: click here
The cloudy night casts a shadow over the river.
Sitting on the bank, I’m regretting my failures while mourning my loss.
We’d felt solace here.
You were the chuckle in my laughter. The path I walked, that kept me straight.
We spent time listening to the reverberations of the river’s course.
Your eyes twinkled as you listened to me speak tender words of love.
The placid water exudes a strange calm.
There’s a stillness in the air that surrounds me.
Looking at the reflection of my face in the serenity of the water;
My thoughts linger gently on yesterday.
Gone …
2021©Isadora DeLaVega
Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 100
Photo Prompt: PennyGadd
To join Rochelle and her Friday Fictioneers
in this challenge: click here
She’ precious ❤️❤️❤️
This was originally posted on FF in 2016. I’ve repeated it due
to my granddaughter visiting with my new great-granddaughter.
My eyes must be deceiving me.
It’s my childhood bike.
I reflect on the hours of recreation we had together.
You gave me happy days of endless activity.
I never thought I’d grow to ignore you, but other things took your place.
Here you are in Momma’s crumbling house; your body rusted, consumed with decay.
I didn’t expect you to be here among the memories of my childhood.
You played a sweet symphony of shades of color for me to enjoy.
Fear of endings grasps my emotions.
I banish them to the disposable world, and their unique beauty ends.
2021©Isadora De La Vega
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Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 100 words
Photo Prompt©LisaFox
To join Rochelle and her Friday Fictioneers Writing
challenge click here
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
To join Rochelle and her Friday Fictioneers Writing
challenge click here
*****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.
