Inside the Mind of Isadora


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A Relaxing Afternoon – I think

Woman: “Heelo … can I hep yew?”

Me: “Yes, I’d like to make an appointment for a pedicure and manicure with John. A friend had recommended him to me.”

Woman: “Yew, come now.”

Me: “It will take me 20 minutes to get to your shop.”

Woman: “Yew, come nowww. He waiting.”

Me: “OK … see you in a little while.”

~~~~~~~

I drive my short little 20 minutes to the salon.

~~~~~~~

Woman: When I enter the salon, the woman at the front counter says, “Pic a cala.”

Me: I say, “I have my own color.” (thinking – there could be germs on their nail polish.)

Woman: John???? (shouting and unintelligible exchange)

Woman: Pointing, “You go there.”

I make my way to the pedicure chair. This man motions me to sit.

I grab my phone from my purse and, compliantly, I sit.

I place my feet into a warm soothing bath of salts. Now, I’m ready to be pampered.

The young man prepares his pedicure instruments and puts on his gloves.

Shutting the water off he looks up at me.

Him: “Wata ok?”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Him: Pointing, “Wata ok?”

Me: “Yes, its fine.”

The pedicure takes about 40 minutes.

Silence.

There’s never a word exchanged. Hand gestures are the mode of conversation.

Eventually, he looks up and points to the manicure table.

Like a good soldier, I march to my chair and sit.

He begins removing my old nail polish. Tense from all of this silence, I make a silly remark about my worse-for-wear nails due to gardening. He looks up and nods.

Creepy.

Does he hate gardening? Does he feel I’ve entered his silent zone without permission?

Unable to continue in this silent tortuous world I ask, “Do you work everyday?”

Him: “Yeezz”

Me: “When do you go to school?”

Him: Pointing to his salon license he says, “I finith school. Am tech now.”

Me: “I see that your name Van Nac Tan. It doesn’t say John on there.”

Him: “Me John.”

Me: I want to say, ‘No, your license says Van Nac Tan. Is John the translation?’

Him: As if I needed more clarification he says, “I am tirty yeer ol’.”

Me: “Ahhh … but you look so young.”

Him: He sends me a grimace with his eyes and, I’m sure, from under his mask too.

Me: (thinking) I guess he prefers silence.

I decide he’s a man of few words and a man who does not enjoy a compliment.

Before adding my new nail color he hands me the bill.

Him: “Yew pay now. Tip cash only”

Me: (thinking) Do I have cash? I’m a charge card carrying person. You know the one who gets lots and lots of points if you use your charge card for everything. I give him my card and off he goes to run it through. I look in my purse and find my emergency cash stash. Lucky me or him.

He hands me the charge receipt for signing. He takes it and places it in a draw. I give him his tip. He grabs it and again throws it in the draw. Nods a quick, Thack u, I think?

My nails are polished to a glossy shine. I’m directed to the drying area next and, then, he leaves for the back room without a word.

Me: (thinking) this has been relaxing: I think.

2017©Isadora DeLaVega


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Friday Fictioneers – Sashay to Trouble

The moon filtered through the starless clouded sky.

She could see tiny white lights shining on the patio. By midnight, they’d be drunk.
It was the perfect night to go.

Silk stockings stretched over her shapely legs and thighs. A black leather skirt accented her curvaceous hips. The spiky heels, she’d picked up at a yard sale, completed her outfit. She felt as fiery as a hot chili pepper.

A car pulled up beside her.

“Looking for some fun?”

“No …” “I’m near my destination.”

“Think so?”

“I’ve got other plans for you, cupcake.”

Tearfully, “I’m grounded. Right Mom?”

  2017©Isadora DeLaVega

Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 100 words
Photo prompt: Dale Rogerson

To join Rochelle and her Friday Fictioneers challenge

click here


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Pencil Parable

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Sister Mary Annunciata handed out the list of things we had to bring to school by the end of the week. It was September 15, 1953. It was the first week of 1st grade. Although I had attended kindergarten at the same school, I was scared. The thought of filling a list of things to bring to school was intimidating. I wanted to make sure I got it right.

After school my mother sent me out with my older sister to get the supplies on the list:

a) a notebook

b) 2 – #2 pencils

c) a pencil sharpener

d) a pencil box

e) an eraser

f) a ruler

 

images4574PYC7I was excited as I picked out each item. The pencil box was made of smooth pale wood with a flat surface that slid the box open when you pushed on the notch. Everything fit inside of it perfectly. The next day I was ready with all of my items. The students who brought all of the items to class received a gold star next to their name. I was proud. I smiled all the way back to my seat. You see, we got to put the gold star next to our own names.

imagesDHOSP21DDuring the first week we received our catechism book, prayer book, rosary beads and a laminated bookmark with an image of a saint on the front and a prayer on the back. We were supposed to mark where we were in our catechism book with it. We were to recite the pray to the saint on the back of the bookmark whenever we found ourselves in a moment of weakness or loss of faith. I often did as I always found myself in a state of fear of not meeting up to getting that gold star again.

cath%20BN156_BN156M[1] Sister Mary Annunciata was angelic in her features. She was petite and had a pretty smile. A stiff white material surrounded her face showcasing her pink skin and white teeth. The black habit covered her all the way down to her ankles. Tiny black leather tips from her shoes stuck out.  Long rosary beads hung from her waist and jingled as she walked. All of this meant nothing, since her harsh tone could let you know, instantly, if you were not in her favor.

imagesZHL4X2RBThe second week of school we were going to learn how to write the letters of the alphabet. Eventually, we would be learning to how write our names. I was thrilled. I wanted to learn how to write so much.

First there were rules we needed to know:

1) No pointing our pencil at anyone

2) We could not sharpen our pencils unless we raised our hand and asked

3) No erasing what we had written

4) No writing on our desks

Finally, after waiting and waiting, we were going to write. I took out my #2 yellow pencil and held it in my hand. It fit perfectly. Now, I was going to be a writer. My journey was about to begin.

No other instrument has had as much influence on my life as that pencil did. There was something powerful in that first encounter. When I read the short inspirational parable below I felt all of the same feelings I felt when I first held that # 2 yellow pencil.

I hope you can remember your feelings when you first became enamored with the art of writing.

What were they????

2017©Isadora De La Vega

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Pencil Parable – an Inspirational story

The Pencil Maker took the pencil aside, just before putting him into the box.

“There are 5 things you need to know,” he told the pencil, “Before I send you out into the world. Always remember them and never forget, and you will become the best pencil you can be.”

1) “You will be able to do many great things, but only if you allow yourself to be held in someone’s hand.”

2) “You will experience a painful sharpening from time to time, but you’ll need it to become a better pencil.”

3) “You will be able to correct any mistakes you might make.”

4) “The most important part of you will always be what’s inside.”

5) “On every surface you are used on, you must leave your mark. No matter what the condition, you must continue to write.”

The pencil understood and promised to remember, and went into the box with purpose in its heart.

Now replacing the place of the pencil with yourself. Always remember them and never forget, and you will become the best person you can be.

1) You will be able to do many great things, but only if you allow yourself to be held in God’s hand. And allow other human beings to access you for the many gifts you possess.

2) You will experience a painful sharpening from time to time, by going through various problems in life, but you’ll need it to become a stronger person.

3) You will be able to correct any mistakes you might make.

4) The most important part of you will always be what’s on the inside.

5) On every surface you walk through, you must leave your mark. No matter what the situation, you must continue to do your duties.

Allow this parable of the pencil to encourage you to know that you are a special person and only you can fulfill the purpose to which you were born to accomplish.

Never allow yourself to get discouraged and think that your life is insignificant and cannot make a change.

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.

*****

Becca hosts Nurturing Thursday
to join in click here

                    I’ve been having some computer issues but it looks like I’ve had a bit of writers block too. Rereading this post brought back my first writing memories. Although I’ve posted this one before, I thought it might help someone else who may be having a difficult time getting back in the saddle of writing.

****For those who haven’t seen it …. ENJOY !!!
****For those who have seen it …. ENJOY !!!                                                                                                                                 ****Google Images

 

 


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Friday Fictioneers – Not Candice Anymore

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She could see Marcus in his white Escalade. He made sure all his girls were where they were supposed to be. Stay warm, baby, Candy’s bringing you what you want. Money …

~~~~~

How did she get in this mess? She’s from Connecticut. We’re good girls.
Me?  I’m the rebel. I never follow rules.

Candace could see no way out. She wasn’t Candace anymore.

~~~~~

“Hey Darlin’, lookin’ for some fun?”

“Sure, baby”.

“Let’s go for a ride.”

~~~~~

The bright marquee lit the seedy motel. The room stank of smoke and sweat.

~~~~~

Thug!

If he hadn’t pulled the knife, Marcus wouldn’t have shot.

2016©Isadora DeLaVega

Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 100 words
Photo Prompt©Shaktiki Sharma

 

To join Rochelle and her Friday Fictioneers challenge
click here or the froggy button above


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Undercover Flames

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It was one of those unspeakable moments; the one you never want to happen. When eyes meet and sparks ignite.

Veronica was married; so was he. Yet, each time they were in a room together, flames stirred. She did her best to stay clear of wherever he was. But, it was impossible.

Their kids were in 2nd grade class together; the same activities. The possibility they’d often see each other was overwhelming.

He was approaching. Dark chocolate eyes glared at her.

She realized what she was about to feel.

Intense Passion.

Could she keep her composure?

She knew.

She must.

2016©Isadora De La Vega

 

 

 

Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 100
Photo Prompt:©Jade M. Wong

Flash Fiction - wpid-photo-20150907210633006

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers

 


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Friday Fictioneers – On A Dark Night

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He sat in the lamp-lit kitchen waiting.

He’d made a cup of tea for her; a morning ritual after her long night at work.

Worry increased as daylight appeared.

~~~~~~~

“It’s hauntingly dark,” she heard a voice from behind her say.

She found herself being shoved against her car.

“How come you’re out so late, honey? What do you do?”

Her hand slashed the silver blade across his throat.

Gurgles of blood oozed while he shrieked.

Inside the car, she flung the scalpel onto the floor.

As she drove away, she watched his writhing body.

“I’m a surgeon,” she said.

2016©Isadora De La Vega

Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 100

To join Rochelle and her Friday Fictioneers challenge
click here or the froggy button above


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Rendezvous

Flash Friday Prompt pix 8:22:2016 - photo-20160821095532483

The phone rang.

“Hello,” she whispered softly.

“ Nereida, meet me at our usual spot on the beach.”

~~~~~~

Memories rapidly flooded her mind. She remembered the first time they’d met. He was walking with his metal detector along the shore. She was photographing the hazy afternoon sky. He had glanced her way.

“Do you always photograph people passing by?”, he said.

“No, only the good looking ones,” she replied.

Thus, the beginning of what would turn out to be a whirlwind romance.

He’d found an antique timepiece that day. It would be her wedding gift.

~~~~~~~

“I’ll bring the bordeaux,” he quickly added.

“I can’t wait”.

She hung up the phone and smiled.

“I wonder who that was”.

2016©Isadora De La Vega

 

 

Word Count: 116
Genre: Flash Fiction

 

 

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers
to join in click here 

 

***** Photo Prompt: ©The Storyteller Abode


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Sunday Song – Carlos Santana

carlossantana[1]The first time I heard Carlos Santana he was playing ….. Maria Maria

Influenced by his Latin roots, Carlos Santana is an award winning Hall of Fame guitarist and rock bandleader. H’s been active in the blues and pop song culture for over 40 years.
Santana was born in Autlan de Novarra, Mexico on my birthday July 20, 1947.
His sound is powerful and transports the listener to unimagined heights.

His newest song/video is a collaboration with Jaunes called ‘La Flaca’.

Santana – La Flaca ft. Juanes

~~~~~~~~~

Photo - juanes

Juan Esteban Aristizábal Vásquez was born August 9, 1972. He’s better known as Juanes.

It’s a contraction of his first and second name. He is a Colombian musician who was

a member of the Acoustic Rock band Ekhymosis and is now a solo artist. info:wikipedia

~~~~~~~~

La Flaca Lyrics

En la vida conoci mujer igual a la flaca
Coral negro de La Habana
tremendisima mulata
Cien libras de piel y hueso
40 kilos de salsa
y en la cara los soles
que sin palabras hablan.
que sin palabras hablan.
La flaca duerme de dia
dice que asi el hambre engana
cuando cae la noche
baja a bailar a la tasca
Y bailar y bailar
y tomar y tomar
una cerveza tras otra
pero ella nunca engorda,
pero ella nunca engorda.
Por un beso de la flaca
daria lo que fuera
por un beso de ella
aunque solo uno fuera.


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Nurture Yourself – A Parable – the Guests

ZenBeauty[1]

I read this parable about Love. It’s insightful. It’s touching. The ending has a profound lesson.

Perhaps, because of all the recent events in the news, we need to focus on Love again.

For those of you who grew up without the nurturing of love

and who are seekers of fulfilling those nurturing years without love I wish you to

Imagine Love and all you can be.
Imagine Love and all you want to be.
Imagine Love and all you are.
2016©Isadora DeLaVega

Soothing meditative music for you to listen to while reading this parable …. Namaste, Isadora

The Guests

A woman was in her garden, when she saw 3 old men with long white beards sitting in her front yard. She did not recognize them.
She said, “I do not know you. Are you hungry? Please come in and have something to eat.”
“Is the man of the house home?”
“No,” she replied. “He’s out”.
“Then we cannot come in,” they replied.

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In the evening when her husband came home, she told him what had happened.
“Go tell them I am home and invite them to come in!”
The woman went out and invited them in.
“We do not go into a house together,” they replied.
“Why is that?” she asked.
One of the old men explained: “His name is Wealth, he said pointing to one of his friends, and said pointing another, His name is Success, and I am Love.”
Then he added, “Now go in and discuss with your husband which one of us you would like to come in.”

zen_palate[1]

The woman went in and told the husband what was said. Her husband was overjoyed.
“How nice!” he said. “Since that is the case, let us invite Wealth!”
His wife disagreed. “My dear, why don’t we invite Success?”
Their daughter-in-law was listening from the other corner of the room. She jumped in with her suggestion: “Would it not be better to invite Love? Our home will then be filled with Love!”

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Let us heed our daughter-in-law’s advice,” said the husband to the wife. “Go out and invite Love to be our guest.”
The woman went out and asked the 3 old men, “Which one of you is Love? Please come in and be our guest.”
Love got up and started walking to the house. The other 2 got up and followed him, too.
Surprised, the woman asked Wealth and Success, “Why are you coming in? I only invited Love.”

zen_palate[1]

The old men replied: “If you had invited Wealth or Success, the other two of us would have stayed out, but you invited Love.
Wherever he goes, we go with him.
Wherever there is Love, there is Wealth and Success!!!!”

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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.

~~~~~~~~

Becca from ‘On Dragonfly Wings with Buttercup Tea’ hosts Nurturing Thursday
~~~ to join in click here ~~~

~~~~~~~

Daily Prompts – Guest


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A Cops Wife Lament

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The news flashed the words ‘Five Officer Killed and Seven Hospitalized.’ A shot to my stomach that took my breath away was my first response. This was happening in Dallas, Texas USA. But, it could’ve been happening in any town where I live or throughout the states.

Why was my response so intense?

Because it’s the news that no family member of a police officer wants to hear. Whether you’re the wife, the mother, the father or a close relative; these words are the last thing you want to hear. They’re the words you live with every day. You repeat them over and over in your mind. They’re the words you repeat to yourself in hopes that when the knock comes to your door you’re prepared to hear them. You never are.

How does this happen?

I’m sure when those officers left for work that morning the last thing on their minds was that they wouldn’t return home that night. This is an unbearable tragedy for all of the families of the fallen officers to have to live with for the rest of their lives. The shooter was killed with a bomb sent into the location with a robot. But, the memory of the incident will live on in the minds of the families stricken that day.

~~~~~~~~

As the wife of a man who wore his NYPD Blue uniform proudly, these are the things we have to endure daily. When your husband, father of your children, walks out the door you never know if he’ll return home safe and whole.

Why do they do it?

They hope that they’re the ones who are going to clean up the mess that’s on the streets. Growing up in the ghetto streets of one Brooklyn neighborhood, my husband was exposed to daily police visits. Domestic violence, burglaries, thefts, carjackings and murder were all part of what he saw as a child and teen.
He viewed the police officers, who came to keep peace in his neighborhood, as the cowboys with the white hats. He thought they were the ones who kept his neighborhood safe. He wanted to do that when he grew up too.

When he was accepted into the department; he never worked in good neighborhoods. He worked in places called Fort Apache or Brooklyn South. He worked undercover and with subversive organizations trying to infiltrate among them to gather information that might help clean up the miscreants that endangered innocent people trying to live decent lives in neighborhoods just like his. He earned his Medal of Valor, his Awards of Merits and far too many commendations to list. But, all with a price attached.

~~~~~~~~

I recall the day I had the knock on my door. The one I thought I was prepared for. I was not. The uniformed police sergeant and his partner stood at my door like bronze figures. No words were needed to be said. I knew. I heard nothing. Their mouths moved but my ears heard nothing.

They said I was supposed to go with them.

I didn’t.

I couldn’t.

I had 3 small children, all under 10 years old, and no one to care for them.

My heart was torn apart. I couldn’t think. They handed me the information and left.
I wanted to curl up in a ball and never open my eyes.

I did.

Then, my daughters were all crying and it brought me back to reality. I had to be strong. I had to make decisions. I had to stop thinking about how I felt and get on with the things I had to do.

~~~~~~~~

I had just moved to this neighborhood. It was 1 ½ hours away from the hospital where my husband had been taken.

When we’d found the house we wanted, I had concerns about how far it was from his precinct. He’d assured me that the drive wouldn’t be a bother. He had convinced me that it was the best thing for our family. He said, “You’ll be far away from all the bad guys I capture.” They usually harm the families. You’ll be safe. It would be a big adjustment but it made sense. After all, he was a warrior when he was out on the street. He would and did make lots of enemies.

~~~~~~~~

Both of our families were in Brooklyn or out of state.

I had made a new friend when my middle daughter started kindergarten. She was the only person I could think of to call.

It was midnight but I was desperate.

I called.

She came over immediately to take care of my children.

I left.

~~~~~~~~

My life changed from that day forward. My husband was in a wheel chair. I was no longer just taking care of children. There was an adult who needed me too.

There were doctor appointments, physical therapy and lots and lots of medications to pick-up and monitor.

He was told he’d never walk again. The bullet was never removed. It was too dangerous to be removed surgically because of where it was. It was left where it was with the possibility that it could move and travel to places it shouldn’t go. They would be scrutinizing its location to monitor where it was traveling. It was a grim diagnosis to hear.

But, I was married to the man with the white hat. The hero in the story. They always end up on the right side of life and the law.

He was going to prove their diagnosis wrong.

He was going to walk and be whole again.

And, he did.

2016©Isadora DeLaVega

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