On The Wall

Naomi and Michael. Forever together. That's what you told me.

Our initials immortalized forever on a wall. However, you're now a leaf on the wind swept away to oblivion. And although you're gone, I still feel you near me. A sweet caress while I sleep or a shadow at the corner of my eye.

Naomi and Michael. Forever together. That's what you told me.

Our years together seem like a grain of sand in this vast ever-expanding universe. It was a tumultuous and blissfully exuberant time together. But like everything that we most treasure, it came to an abrupt end.



Image by Aleatha Ingleton .

Children on the Beach

"Mommy, I got a bunch of sand in my butt."

"Go in the water, honey and wash out the sand."

"Mom, he keeps bothering me. He says I have a mustache and need to shave it."

"Ignore him sweetheart, he'll get tired of bothering you and leave you alone."

"Ma, there's sand in my sandwich."

"Throw it away and get another one sweetie."

"Mum, she's in my space. I told her about my personal space."

"If you all don't leave me alone to read this book, we are going straight home."

Don't you just love family day at the beach.



Image taken from Wikimedian Commons, Pierre- Auguste Renoir, Children on the Beach.

Kiss

"Where are you going?"

"Out with the other nobles. Thadius is having a gathering."

"A gathering? Or more like a chance for a night of drink and debauchery?"

"Sweetheart, I won't be gone too long. I'll take you in the chariot for a spin when I return."

"No you will not treat me like some common trollop off the street. I won't be bribed."

"How about we go for the stroll first and then I meet the gentlemen for a quick drink?"

"Alright. But be home well before the cock's crow."

"Fine. Come here Love and give me a kiss."





Image taken from Wikimedia Commons, Kiss, Briseis.

The Burrow's Valentine Cafe

Every morning I cheat on my husband. I have tried to resist the temptation. I only end up with a pounding migraine headache.

I suffer from the absolute need for the delectable, awe-inspiring and indefinable quality of perfection you possess. No matter where I go, you are there. Every bodega, deli, diner and shop is stocked up with your warm, fragrant goodness.

I cannot be without you. Even while pregnant, I ran back to you. My husband cannot comprehend the magnitude of my desire for you.

I am forever enslaved to this legally addictive stimulant. I want you even now.



Image taken from Steven Evans, Wikimedia Commons.

First Kisses

My first kiss wasn't all that memorable. It was the consequence, I'll remember. A boy in my class wrote a note about kissing me after school. I remember happily skipping home. I could feel my heart beating underneath my blouse and a sudden surge of giddiness. I was thinking, "Does he really like me? Is he my boyfriend now that he kissed me? Does it matter that he's not Puerto Rican? Will he ask for another kiss?" While all of this ran through my mind, I hadn't realized that I was only seven years old and shouldn't be kissing boys.

Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons, Auguste Rodin, "The Kiss"

Sleigh Riding

Image Attribution: Wikimedia Commons

"Push harder and faster! I want to go as fast as a train."

"Well then push it yourself. This weighs a ton. Plus it's my turn to ride this sled."

"It's not a sled, it's a toboggan."

"It's not a toboggan. They don't have any legs on them. It's a sleigh."

"Well, whatever! Push faster. I can't even feel the wind on my face."

"You know what? I don't want to play with you anymore."

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry. How about you push for five more minutes?"

"No. How about you push and I go."

"Oh, alright. You big baby."



This drabble was from last year's Advent Calendar.  For this year's Advent Calendar, please visit The Burrow.

No Peeking!

Image attribution:  Wikimedia Commons

"Look. They're headed towards the basement."

"I know. I saw them looking for the key to the door in the kitchen cabinets."

"Let's stop them this minute. How dare they look for their gifts, steal keys and sneak around the house."

"They're kids. Didn't you ever look for a hidden gift or shake the box to find out what was in it?"

"Well, yes. But that's besides the point!"

"Anyway, it doesn't matter. I moved all of the gifts to the attic. The only thing they'll find are boxes with lumps of coal."

"I can't wait to see their faces!"



This drabble was from last year's Advent Calendar.  For this year's Advent Calendar, please visit The Burrow.

Palacio Avenida Nata: Christmas in Brazil

Image: Wikimedia Commons

The mood is electrifying. Bodies are hugged tightly together in anticipation of the opening night. The cacophony of human voices permeate the air and rise to a crescendo. Music is heard faintly in the background. Singing begins and is beautifully fluid. A hush falls upon the crowd and an angel begins to sing. Countless cherubs join the angel and a heavenly choir sings "Carol of the Bells" in Portuguese. This melody resonates across the square and penetrates the very center of the crowd's soul. The lights appear in unison and the audience moves like a single wave across the ocean.




This was a drabble written for last year's Advent Calendar.  Here is a link to the 2010 December Feature.

Christmas Tree

Dear Santa,

Annually, on the day after Thanksgiving, my family and I put up the Christmas tree.  We drag out the storage bin from the recesses of my husband’s utility closet.  We lay out the tree in it’s various pieces all throughout the living room.  We untangle the lights, sort the decorations, untangle the garland, put together the tree, put everything on the tree and finally take everything down to reorganize them into some symmetrically, aesthetically pleasing arrangement.

Is it any wonder that it took a full two weeks after Thanksgiving to put up the tree and decorate?

Sincerely,

Exhausted

This one is for Tara Smith, a fellow Burrower, who had a hectic time putting up her tree.  The image above is obviously not my tree since I have yet to put mine up.  

*hides from pitchforks*

The Yule Goat

"Mother, hurry. We’ll be late for the Yule Festival," Annika shouted.

"I’ll be down in a moment. I’m gathering the clove spiked apples and oranges. Have Anker collect some boughs from the pine trees in the yard and tell Anton to gather a bushel of wheat. And . . .," her breathless mother responded.

"Yes. All is taken care of. I have the holly and mistletoe throughout the house. We have to go. We’ll miss the Yule log and the Yule goat ceremony," whined a frustrated Annika.

"And wassail to you too," Mother toasts as she rushes past with her spiced cider.

Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons, Udo Schroter.


To see more of our drabbles from our December Feature, visit The Burrow.