Tag: writing

Day out with a Bang

lizaaitken

Daily Post Prompt – Fork

 

We never know what is just in front of us, what could happen that will change the course of events.

This was brought home to me today, when I met my friend for a girly catch up at a shopping centre. I needed to get an outfit for a wedding, a special wedding, so I wanted it to be something lovely. The plan was to stop for some lunch and then wonder around the shops to get the perfect outfit, hopefully a lovely floaty dress, maybe a cheeky glass of wine.

Linda, my best friend, had her foster child with her as the day centre was closed. That was okay with me I love Anne, I’ve know her years. We met her when we were both working with her when she was seven. It wasn’t very long before Linda knew she could give her a home and now Anne is twenty-three. Anne has special needs and brain damage from her early life experiences, along with this she has epilepsy. Anne functions at around four years old but we know how to meet her needs and help her feel safe.

We had a lovely lunch time chat and Anne had a big bowl of chocolate ice cream. I got some nice photos of her, which is hard as she puts on a false smile if she thinks her photo is being taken. The photos were so nice we thought we would pop along to the photo shop to get them printed off. Only first we would quickly pop into the Nespresso shop to try some of their different flavours.

We were chatting to the assistant about the various flavours when, crash Anne had a huge seizure, fell off a stool we had missed her climbing on, and banged her head on the marble floor. The sound of the crack of her head was terrifying and everybody ran over. A big pool of dark red blood seeped from the back of her head onto the marble floor, I was horrified, we were all horrified. As much as I wanted to help and I did, I hate the sight of blood, it makes me faint. I crouched down next to her trying to comfort her as much as I could while we waited for the ambulance.

Passers by rushed to help, a lovely mother and daughter who stayed throughout, mopping the blood, holding her hand and talking to her. They had been shopping for a dress for the daughter who had a big night out planned. They were wonderful people and told us helping Anne was far more important. The shop closed their doors and put screens up in front, they were just amazing, they even passed around espressos.

Anne was taken to hospital over an hour later, it’s amazing how long it takes for them to arrive and treat a patient on the scene. I kissed Anne and Linda goodbye and said I would call them later and headed for my car. I thought about how quickly things can change. There could be a fork in the road for all of us hidden from view and ready to knock us off of our feet, we never really know what is ahead.

I saw a shop and dashed in a bought a dress for an extortionate amount of money. ‘Who knows what is around the corner’ I told the assistant as she wrapped it in tissue. I hope the young girl who helps has a fantastic night out tonight.

I just spoke to Anne on the telephone, she is feeling much better and is on the way home with the two large cuts on her head repaired. I hate to think what could have happened today, it could have been so much worse.

I was jolly on the phone and sang her ‘Humpty Dumpty’.

Counting Days

lizaaitken

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/countless/

It rains for countless days, 

the clouds are thick and dark.

Summer seems an age away,

No walks around the park.

The weathers always rotten,

the washing never dries.

Until I go to work again

and the sun is in the sky!

Countless times I swap my day

planning well ahead.

I closely watch the weather,

in constant fear and dread.

But I always choose the wrong day

how ever hard I plan.

Then you’ll find me in the office,

sweating by the fan!

Final Countdown

lizaaitken

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/countless/

I have said it countless times now,

told you until I’m blue in the face.

I’m constantly repeating myself,

This is a diabolical disgrace! 

How do I get your attention, 

it feels like I’m talking to a wall.

You must open your ears and listen,

This certainly won’t do at all!

Do I have to say it again now,

have I got mug written over my face.

I will say it just one more time,

Until I get out of this place!

Flowers on the Railway

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IMG_0808

The flower on the side of the railway tracks looks out of place in this grey urban environment.  But the flower, like many others like her along tracks, still reaches up daily in prayer to the sun.

She has hope for future generations, she is positive about the future for her kind.  In the distance, if she stretches up above the grass she can see the downs, she knows that flowers just like her grow wildly there and flourish.   She is at peace knowing that through pollination, her kind will also one day live in those hills.

In just a few weeks the bees and butterflies will be back and her prayers may come to fruition.  Until then she will continue to allow the wind to sooth her and perhaps help a little along the way.

She continues to dream of a better future for her kind.

Bits and Pieces

lizaaitken

Daily prompt word – Grain

A grain of sand, a speck of dust,
minuscule pieces of the earth we trust.

Set together, they grow into form,
whole and real, what we see as the norm.

In isolation, their use would cease,
no use on their own to man or beast.

Castles without sand would not exist,
neither would cleaners if dust didn’t persist.

Massed together and what do we see,
the wholeness of earth, we love to see.

Grain

lizaaitken

Daily Word Prompt – Grain

There is suggestion that we are living in a holographic type universe and reality does not exist unless we look at it.

Think of the possibilities here if this is true.

Judge – Did you receive the final demand for payment of the quantity of sand you had delivered to your home.

Accused – Your honour, yes the letter said I owed the money, I saw this when I looked at it but when I tucked it away into my kitchen draw, I knew it couldn’t really be there.  I have been reading about quantum physics your honour and I don’t believe this court has a grain of evidence against me.

 

Graffiti Reading

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IMG_0805
Graffiti Reading No. 1

I came across this piece of graffiti while walking in Brighton today and was quite taken with what it said to me.  I took a photo of it and thought I would try a sort of psychic reading.

The art was half way up a staircase.  The stairs are a thoroughfare from one road, up a hill to a parallel road above.  You have to be local to know they are there, they are hidden from view.   This suggested to me that the artist, was neither here or there, but on his way up.

I feel this was painted by a young man who is still discovering himself.  The face he shows to the world different to the soul beneath, he wears a mask.  He presents a tough exterior, doesn’t smile an awful lot, if at all to those who don’t know him.  He is still finding himself, he is in the process of carving out his identity.  I believe he is on his way up and getting closer to his destination.  I think this is a self portrait, even if he was unaware of this at the time.

He wants us to think that he meets the world head on, he knows where he is going but I believe he is still tortured by the past.  Torture might not be the right word here, but he shows a sadness, the sadness that comes from past experiences that leave scars on the soul.  I get this from the eye on the left, right in the photo, that appears to be focussed on the past.

That he chose a secluded spot to display his art, made me feel he was waiting to be noticed and at the same time, desperately wants to be worthy of being noticed.  He is not ready to show his true self yet, he doesn’t believe he will be accepted.  But there is hope in the art work and I think hope for the future.

I believe he comes from love, there are people around him that love him although he might not be aware of this at the present time.  I see two circles behind him in blue and green, signifying love and healing.  I’m not sure he consciously painted them but to me they are his people.

I feel this young man is a thinker and communicator, he has the ability to communicate his understanding of the world but at present he is quiet.  He has passion, this will develop as he begins to understand himself and his place in the world.  Above all I see a gentleness that will grow and flourish.

This gives me hope.

Another Phase

lizaaitken

Daily Post word prompt: Phase

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/phase/”>Phase</a&gt;

An email dropped into my inbox telling me that my blog was too heavy and depressing for one so young and so full of vitality. Oh dear, just when I was thinking about writing some more about death. Do I unplug the laptop or continue, I’m at a loss.  The trouble is death is on my mind a lot these days. Not my death, I have no plan for my own demise yet, although that does creep into my dreams sometimes, but the death of others. I get caught up in the death of those I have loved, I suppose I’m still in the processing stage, it’s a phase I’m going through.

The email came from a well meaning aunt, she feels a responsibility to her nieces and wants us to be happy, I will tell her not to worry, it’s only another phase.  I have been through numerous phases in my life, starting I suppose with the ‘why?’ phase as a toddler. I have forgotten more phases than I can remember and that’s a good thing, but there have been few over the years.

There was of course the crazy Bay City Rollers Phase. I loved Derek on the drums dearly, he didn’t say or sing anything much, but I couldn’t choose Les as he was already taken a few times over by all the other girls on the estate. Derek was the least popular so I had a better chance, well that was my reckoning at the time. I wore his scarf tied around my wrist for the whole summer. It wasn’t his actual scarf but his tartan and I wore it constantly even sleeping in it and wearing it on the beach as a stylish swimsuit accessory.  When the phase was over and David Essex came into my life the posters were ripped off of the wall without a seconds thought and the scarf was dumped.

A number of other phases came and went, some like crushes, lasting fleeting moments and some lasting a little longer. The black phase was funny, dressed with my friend head to toe in black, the ‘Black widows’ we called ourselves and my god did we look weird. I think it lasted less than a week, probably until all the black stuff was in the laundry basket and we had to give up, put on our jeans and get back on our bikes.

I had a number of different man phases as is wholly natural when trying to find a soul mate. The gangster phase I’m not going to say much about apart from the excruciating embarrassment of my college tutor calling me a ‘gangers moll’.  Then of course the inevitable marriage phase which never really worked and went on for a while longer than it should have.

I think now I have finally reached a new phase. I’m now focussing on me, getting to know my true self as we tend to do as middle age creeps in. I think it must be connected to ageing and the arrival of the death instinct.  Anyway this involves me attempting to gain an understanding myself without the attachments I have always needed to feel real. Maybe my death obsession is also connected to the letting go of attachments.  Who knows, it’s probably just another phase I’m going through.

Phase of You

lizaaitken

Daily Prompt Word – Phase

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/phase/”>Phase</a&gt;

A simple phase your going through,
in love with me, it can’t really be true.

A blissful moment of time stood still,
here with me now of your own free will.

I must be dreaming, I must be asleep,
to believe that you are here for keeps.

Break me in pieces, I surely won’t mend,
our love affair can never ever end,

Don’t tell me if you leave, just go away,
I just want to remember you here today.

Soul of the Ocean.

lizaaitken

There are many boats on the ocean. Some of these are small boats, big enough for one fisherman and then there are the larger vessels, such as ocean liners carrying hundreds of passengers.  All are at the control of the tides and the stars and the crossing is not guaranteed.

Some of these boats will last an age, they are the friends of the ocean, built well to work with the water and blow with the wind. The Ocean is in control and the vessels sail and reach their destination with its permission alone. There is not a boat that can control the water, the ocean is the constant thing, the boats come and go.

The ocean’s soul is made up of many who have crossed it. The souls that live in the ocean, those that work with the ocean or encounter it, add their experience to its great depth and vastness.

I think the ocean is a lot like life, we get through it with luck and permission, not by trying to control it.