Written in response to the WP Daily Prompt: Believe.
winds and rain
broken tree limbs
believe—not in today
but for tomorrow’s hope
Copyright © 2017-10-09, by Elizabeth W. Bennefeld.
Introduction: One of my most favorite authors, Sharon Shinn, recently (since 2010) began a series of novels called Elemental Blessings. Each Monday she has been drawing three tokens, each with a symbol and a blessing written on it, and posting them on her Facebook Page (sharonshinnbooks). I consider the list to be unordered.
I have my own set of her blessings tokens. It is interesting to note the differences between the blessings that she draws and mine. Often I use one or more as a basis for a poem, article, or jumping-off point for personal meditations throughout the week.
The blessings fit in quite nicely with my goals for this time period, which include withdrawal from most interaction, contemplation on the changes that are taking place/have occurred already in my life following our parents’ deaths.
I didn’t get enough sleep, last night (5 hours), and I am heading the same direction tonight. The two poems that I wrote on the 26th of July (see TheWrittenWord.net/journal) are important.
I received in today’s mail the hardcover copy of Common Ground, by Ryan Pancoast, writer/illustrator. A children’s fantasy story of interspecies relations. I like it a lot.
This evening, my blood glucose reading was 93 mg/dL. That’s the first time I’ve had a reading below 100 since I started doing the testing, middle of December.
I expect that the exercise is having an effect.
Now, if it’ll just do that for the cholesterol levels, again, like it did while I was donating blood, pedaling the exercise bike a lot, and getting my cholesterol checked every 8 to 10 weeks.
I enjoyed the time spent reading in the back yard. There was enough of a breeze that the mosquitoes were sparse. I took one of the canvas camping chairs to put under the tree branches, which sheltered me from the sun. The Scampers enjoy sunning themselves, though.
So often, driving home on the Memorial Day weekend, the skies were littered with these bright, plump clouds, a brilliant blue background that seemed to reach up forever.
My father was the sexton and groundskeeper for the village cemetery. We children worked for him during the summers, and also, leading up to the Memorial Day weekend, when everything had to be perfect.
This will be the first Memorial Day weekend without him.
My sister posted a picture that she’d scanned in hi-res from the assortment of photographs and letters she took with her back to the East Coast, after Father’s funeral. This one’s from the war years and sent by Father to Mother.
They were married before Pearl Harbor. Mother joined the Navy afterward. Father was in the Army [training sergeant] at Fort Dodge, having joined the Army before the U.S. entered the war, which is how he ended up in the same state as Mother.