personal, prose

this is not about clowns

person holding purple petaled flowers

Photo by Lisa Fotios on Pexels.com

So here’s a thing, our lives have taken an interesting turn because of a cancer scare for my husband. He has had pancreatitis for years, and we were told a long time ago, he most likely will be a candidate for cancer at some point. Now he has growths in his pancreas. One is not currently cancerous, we are hopefully finding out more soon about the other one. We are remaining optimistic at this point. But they are large growths and one of them is in an inconvenient place and we will still have to make decisions on what to do about them.

Continue reading

Standard
Fiction, prose

“I don’t want to

give you any of it. None of it. Don’t even bother asking”, was the un-pep talk she gave her reflection every morning.

And the good Lord knew that her mirror needed some un-pepping.

It was greedy for power. And it had to stop.

She wallpapered over it. With the lyrics of songs, scriptures, books, poems. Her favourite people. Her favourite letters.

She stood back to gaze at her soul mirror. While eating her favourite ice cream.

 

Standard