Bethany gazed at the picture of her four children that sat on the edge of her soon-to-be vacated desk, smiling in relief; she hadn’t been able to give them the time and attention they needed, and had been leaning too much on Eloise and Andrew to wrangle the twins, Chuckie and Ducks. Continue reading
(To access the beginning of this 6-part series, please visit here: Solitude’s End)
Time Will Tell
Flora never met the little forest man in person, after all, although the storm had passed through over night, and the day that followed was sunny and unusually warm for the time of year. But she had seen his tiny footprints in the morning dew on the cement slab of the sheltered porch. Continue reading
Well, at least he’s happy.
I wasn’t expecting a visit from my teenaged, road-working son, but here he is, leaning into a half-eaten, torn-into loaf of walnut-wheat bread, butter disappearing quickly. His bent arms are long enough to eclipse the entire side of my kitchen table, effectively blocking me out. Yes, of course I fed my kid. You always feed your kid. They never completely grow up, not in your eyes. Continue reading
January 25: Journal
J-ust flipping through the journal stacks
O-prah, Ladies’ Home, and Country Shacks
U-p and comers follow their lead
R-ead with interest to determine their need
N-ow I, unfunded, can afford to say “no”
A-nd walk away from the circus show
L-imited funds have their happy use
© Liz Husebye Hartmann (2022)
January 24: Unbelievable
What’s in a Name?
“But I swear to you, it’s all true!”
“Yeah, I think you spend too much time on your own, Megan,” Flora laughed. She frowned at Megan, at the hair that hadn’t seen a stylist for an entire summer, the crow’s feet limned in white from squinting into the sun, and the strong, tanned legs with skin just a bit too dry. At least she was still shaving her legs, but the cuts-offs were torn and baggy, and there was a stain on the oversized t-shirt.
Flora continued, “So where is this little forest man you’ve been telling me about?” Continue reading
Hunched over the bar rail, leaning into the bowl of free peanuts, having made his way from the bright morning, across a treacherous savannah of broken shells, pull-tabs and a number of suspicious sticky spots, Artie noted he was out of money and therefore, on his final drink. Continue reading