Inside the Mind of Isadora


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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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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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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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Santa brought a Schwinn

Christmas fills our minds with memories we hold dear. I’ve shared this story before.

It’s a tale of the innocence of childhood. I hope you enjoy it again … it’s a repost.

If you’re reading it for the first time, I hope it brings memories of your past Chrismas’.Dear Santa, 

I forgot to mention I want a bicycle. 

Thank You, Doris  

(my family called me this name when I was growing up)

 

On Christmas morning, those were the words that rattled inside my mind when I saw this very shiny bicycle near our Christmas tree when I was 9 years old.

I know what most of you are thinking, ‘Why did she believe in Santa Claus at age 9?’  Isn’t that a little old to believe in things that don’t exist? 

But, I always believed everything my parents said to me even if classmates said there wasn’t a Santa Claus. Parents wouldn’t fib to their children. Besides, we were taught every day in Catholic school that lying was a sin. I didn’t want to believe my parents would commit a sin on purpose. My little sister was 5, then, and she believed in Santa. Should I have spoiled it for her? No. And so, I believed. 

On this particular Christmas morning, I questioned whether or not I’d asked for the right gifts. Even though, I had 2 gifts this year there had always been just one. I must have been really good. 

I was thrilled when I opened my first gift and it was the special Shirley Temple doll I had asked for. She had the prettiest smile and blonde curls. She was wearing a plaid skirt with a crisp white blouse and a beret atop those ringlets of curls. 

The second gift was the exact beret Shirley Temple wore when I’d seen her at the Macy’s store on 5th Avenue. My family had gone into the city to see Santa and all of the wonderful New York decorations. As I think back to that day, my grandmother had taken us to have lunch while my mother did some errands. Doing Santa’s work, I’m sure. Well, he did fulfill my wishes. 

But there in the middle of the living room, next to a brightly lit tree, was this blue and white shiny bicycle. It had a giant white bow and my older sisters’ name on it. It was so pretty. It was remarkably high too. I could barely reach the handlebars. It was gleaming and satiny bright. When my sister saw it she squealed and jumped all around the living room. She had a huge smile on her face while slight giggles emitted as she spoke. We all gathered around it as we oohed and aahed. 

Excited and ready to get her new bicycle outside, my sister ran into her room to get dressed. I waited in the living room with my Shirley Temple doll. I knew she wasn’t going to be able to ride.  When she grabbed her bicycle and was ready to go my mother told her she couldn’t go outside. 

Stunned she asked, why? 

She was told the bad news. It had snowed 5” during the night. The sidewalks were covered in snow.

Well, she wasn’t having any of it. She trotted down the flight of stairs with her new bicycle and went outside. She rode on the snow. Of course, she fell a lot too. It didn’t matter to her. She wasn’t going to be stopped. All of us watched from the window and laughed.

Weeks later the weather improved. Eventually, she gave me a ride on her new bicycle. I didn’t know how to ride a 2 wheel bike. She had to hold onto me and the bike as I attempted to reach the pedals. It was futile. I was too short. Since she’d asked for a boys bike with the bar that ran across from the handlebars to the seat, my riding days quickly ended.  We did have great fun rides with me sitting on the back fender while holding onto the seat.

Four years later, when she left home at 18, I was given the bicycle. I’d learned to ride a 2 wheel bike by then but I was never as interested in bike riding as she was. 

I guess I did get the right gifts from Santa that Christmas, after all.

2019©Isadora DeLaVega


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Friday Fictioneers – The Farm

Their marriage was good. They had dreams.

He wanted a farm. 

She needed space; wide open space to breathe.

Their friends lived on the adjoining farm. 

Dad rode his tractor in cover-alls, a plaid shirt and a straw hat Mama made him.

Mama’s floral house-dress draped with her home sewn apron, worn proudly, was as stylish as she wanted to be.

She’d carry brother on her hip while holding a wash cloth in her other hand.

It was a time for fixing things. Things we kept forever. Things we treasured.

It was a way of life they loved.

2018©Isadora DeLaVega

 

 

Genre: Flash Fiction

Word Count: 100

Photo Prompt: Nathan Sowers

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Friday Fictioneers – Footprints in the Snow

Everyone was beginning to get cabin fever.

How much longer could they be snowed in without tempers flaring?

The wood pile was getting low. Soon, they’d have to go outside and chop some more.

A chill swept through Helga’s spine. It would be her luck to lose when they were choosing who’d collect the fire wood next.

She was happy to be away from them, even for a short time. She couldn’t bear having Niklaus around. He was being crudely salacious.

Helga turned.

Footprints in the snow appeared behind her.

“Niklaus,” she screeched.

Frightened, she ran.

2018©Isadora DeLaVega

Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 100
Photo Prompt©J-Hardy Carroll

 

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Footprints in the Sand

The sun is sparkling over the crystal turquoise water. It’s warm as I lie on the sand staring at the sky. A warm sensation fills me with extraordinary peace. I feel free. I’m in the center of this beautiful landscape.

Colorful sailboats skim across the water. Beautifully dressed flamingos settle by the water’s edge. They resemble little gentlemen wearing pink shirts with yellow spotted ties. I watch them for some time. Their pink bodies blending with the turquoise water.

Upon a mossy tree filled mound sits a young man painting. His brush capturing footprints left behind on the grey speckled sand.

As sunset begins, he picks up another canvas ready to paint the night sky. The sky changes from a sunny yellow and blue to pink, red and orange. Stars dot the darkness. I’m feeling exuberant as I watch the changes. Another day’s set. Tomorrow, the exquisite scenery will return.

2017©Isadora DeLaVega

Genre: Short Story
Word Count: 150
Photo Prompt: aFrank

aFa Writing Challenge – Footprints in the Sand

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Nurture Yourself – Have Faith in Your Other Hand

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Jenny’s Pearls

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Five year old Jenny was a pretty blue eyed, blond, angelic looking child.
She was sweet, loving and caring to everyone she met. Her mother and father
were very proud of Jenny’s big heart and giving nature.

One day, Jenny was shopping with her mother. They were passing a glass case when Jenny noticed these beautiful plastic pearls.

“Can I get them Mother?” Jenny asked.

“It is a very pretty pearl necklace but it is expensive. The cost is $2.50.” she calmly told Jenny.

She could see the disappointment Jenny’s face.

Feeling her sadness she said, “If you would like to do chores to pay for the pearl necklace I will get them for you today”.

“Oh, yes,” Jenny said.

“Well, we can make a chore chart when we get home”, her mother told her.

Jenny agreed and her mother purchased the pearl necklace for her.

As soon as the chart was up on the refrigerator, Jenny started to do her chores. A week later was her birthday. Her grandmother gave her one dollar as her gift. Soon, she had paid for the beautiful pearl necklace.

Jenny adored her little pearl necklace. She wore it all the time; except when she showered. She wore it to the store where it had been purchased and everyone admired it. She was smiling each and every time someone commented on its beauty.

Jenny’s daddy loved her very much; as much as Jenny loved her pearl necklace. When it was bedtime he would read her one of her favorite bedtime stories.

One night when he finished the story, he said, “Jenny do you love me?”

“Oh yes, Daddy, you know I love you.” She said hugging him tightly.

“Well, then, give me your pearls.”

“Oh, Daddy, not my pearls,” Jenny said. “But you can have Rosie, my favorite doll. Remember her? You gave her to me last year for my birthday. And you can have her tea party outfit, too.” “Okay?”

“No, darling, that’s okay”. Her father said as he brushed her cheek with a kiss. “Good night, little one.”

A week later, her father once again asked Jenny after her story, “Do you love me?”

“Oh yes, Daddy, you know I love you.” She hugged him tighter than the night before.

“Well, then give me your pearls,” he said.

“Oh, Daddy, not my pearls, Jenny said. But you can have Ribbons, my toy horse. Do you remember her? She’s my favorite. Her hair is so soft, and you can play with it.
You can braid it and everything. You can have Ribbons, if you want, Daddy,” the little girl said to her father.

“No, that’s okay,” her father said and brushed her cheek again with a kiss. “God bless you little one, sweet dreams.”

Several days later, when Jenny’s father came into her room to read her a story, Jenny was sitting on her bed and her lip was quivering.

When her father asked, “What’s wrong princess?”

Jenny said, “Here, Daddy.” She held out her hand and when she opened it her beloved pearl necklace were inside. She let it slip into her father’s hand.

With one hand her father held the plastic pearls and with the other he pulled out of his pocket a blue velvet box. Inside of the box was a strand of real pearls. They were glistening with shine. He had them all along. He was waiting for Jenny to give up the plastic ones so he could give her the real ones.

Instead of a story that night, Jenny’s father told her why he had asked her to give him the pretty pearl necklace:

He explained that in life there will be things that she will want to hold onto. These could be things that are harmful or will keep her from having a happy life. It could be a partner, a relationship, a friend, a habit or obsession. These things could bring her danger and could be impossible to let go of. He wanted her to believe that with her own inner strength of love of self she could let go of these things and still be whole.

When something is wounding – let go.  Something more precious could and will come along. She needed to have faith that within her all things were possible. Because, the most important part of who she was could always be found deep inside.

Sometimes, it will be hard to see what’s in the other hand but do believe this; one thing is true they are always working together …..  2017©Isadora DeLaVega

 

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Namaste
I honor the place in you
in which the entire universe dwells.
I honor the place in you
which is of Love, and of Truth,
of Light and of Peace.
When you are in that place in you
and I am in that place in me.
We are One.

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Becca @ On Dragonfly Wings with Buttercup Tea
hosts Nurturing Thursday
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Friday Fictioneers – The Window

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Harry stares out the window. He sits and stares since his Ruby’s brutal murder.

He’d taken her to the museum; then, a dimly lit dinner. She was beautiful.
Harry noticed the waiter leer at her. She provoked men with her beauty.
Her eyes the color of emeralds.

Now, he sit and stares.

He doesn’t care if he leaves the room.

He doesn’t pay bills; watch television or knows who feeds him.

His life is whatever passes outside the window.

All he sees are changing seasons, joggers, passing cars and Ruby’s ghost.

But, there’s no window.

Padded cells have no windows.

2017©Isadora De La Vega

Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 100 words

Photo Prompt:Dale Rogerson

 

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