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Goodbye, Hello Again, and Farewell
The pandemic hit us all very hard! Regardless of where one lives, the size of their household, or their employment status, COVID-19 took its toll.
As an elementary schoolteacher, every year I teach my students that we are a family. Out at recess, and in the classroom, we must have one another’s back. That means that as we learn and give things a try, we never ridicule each other. Rather, we are brought together to encourage and inspire.
We began March of 2020, as we had been doing all along. We gave a lot of high-fives and hugs every single day. Then, we had to stop all potential contact—no hand holding, no hugging, no sharing of supplies or recess equipment. If someone dropped something, we could no longer help them pick it up. It went against everything I taught. Eventually, I had to separate 22 desks and close my classroom library, reading room, and without much notice, my entire classroom.
I recall being told to pack up enough supplies to teach students for two weeks in March of 2020, so I packed a month’s worth just in case. With that, I was able to outlast most other grades, but by Easter, I was scanning work around the clock, just like my colleagues, to ensure our students received the curriculum we promised to cover. I was a puddle of tears by most evenings.
Not only were the demands of my job doing me in, but so too, were the bigger fears like worrying about the health of my parents, family, and loved ones. The local, national, and global news were frightening, but felt necessary to watch to maintain awareness of what was going on out there…in the big, scary world.
An introvert, I was okay with staying tucked inside my home with my immediate family, but I worried about my large extended family. Throughout the course of the year, my family became the statistics we watched on the news. Pandemic job loss hit us hard. Educators were appreciated for a moment, then scrutinized again by summer’s end. Some of us got COVID-19 and some of us survived, but forever changed. Then, there were the beloved ones who died alone due to pandemic safety protocols in hospitals. Every day things seemed to change and fast.
Just a few weeks ago, I stood in my school’s parking lot collecting the academic supplies I had given to concerned parents back in August. After over a year of the pandemic, parents are more aware of how to safely bring their children to both meet me in-person and simultaneously say goodbye to me as their teacher. As with every year, I took many end-of-the year pictures with my students, but this time, we were placed many feet apart and our eyes had to show the smiles we had under our masks. I taught and created a virtual family with students that I never got to be in the same classroom with.
Over the weekend, my family and I ventured out in public to celebrate a milestone anniversary for my parents. I saw my children hug their grandparents for the first time in over a year, and the tears the hugs brought to my mother’s eyes. Our extended family finally reunited as we reminisced about our shared pasts. There was real laughter, all together, in the same place at the same time. It was not virtual and there was no delay. Slowly, the return to our loved ones is coming back.
Just as our family prepares to welcome one another with open arms, we prepare for a final farewell for my last paternal aunt, my godmother. She died over a year ago, at the height of the pandemic. As a registered nurse, she lived her life caring for others. In the end, she left Earth without our family being able to gather, say goodbye, and celebrate her life. I was so distraught when she passed, not only because she was my beautiful godmother, but because I couldn’t be with my cousins as they mourned.
There are things the pandemic stole from us: time, health, education, trips, holidays, but most of all it took family and loved ones from us. Although my godmother did not die from COVID-19, the pandemic made it impossible for my family to do what we do best, come together to lean on one another, love, and laugh! The familiarity of belonging to a specific group—a family, means everything. While distanced, we worked vigilantly to survive so that we could be together again.
I have said since the beginning of the pandemic, that this was put upon us to teach us something. I believe we needed to slow down and take in the blessings we have around us. We’ve become an intolerable and impatient society. I see it coming up in the next generation of children. As this is written, there are cars honking and the sounds of revved engines because someone is probably driving too slow for another’s liking. I still hold out hope that our planet will come together as the greatest family of all…the family of mankind where all are accepted and respected.
Here’s to families everywhere. The ones given and the ones chosen. Treasure them. Protect them. Love them. Hug them and laugh with them often because what we know for sure is that time together is uncertain.
Anna Rodriguez is a wife, mother, and writer. She is completing her first contemporary novel set in California’s Central Valley. Family and friendships are important themes for Anna’s work because of the influences they have had on her life. When Anna is not writing or hanging out with her family, she can be found reading or searching for music to add to her eclectic playlist. She will complete her MFA in Creative Writing in the next few weeks.
Twitter: @solwithinanna
Love is Everywhere
If you look closely at the cupped cosmo blossom, you’ll see winged-cupid in the form of a bee, caressing the heart of the flower. If you look around, you’ll see that love is everywhere.
Writers pierced the heart of this topic like knights of old on a quest, and returned with stories worthy of court. Gather round and prepare to move through each flash that promises to move you. Love never sits still or remains with only a few. Love expands the more we recognize it and share it.
This week, the following stories are based on the September 16, 2015 prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a love story.
***
Honk’tar: A Love Story by Kate Spencer
Honk’tar flails his massive wings and thrusts himself toward the dog, hissing at it with his powerful beak wide open. The dog lunges forward and they struggle and thrash until Honk’tar hears a whimper. He’s drawn blood. The fight is over.
He waits for the dog to scamper away and then swims toward his injured mate, extending his long neck, waving it gently back and forth. She gracefully extends hers in welcome and their necks intertwine.
A gunshot ricochets among the reeds.
Honk’tar immediately begins to push his mate, urgently steering her toward the dense thickets of the marsh.
###
Finding Your Own Way by Roger Shipp
“I never wanted this to happen.”
“I know.” We lay, relaxed, under the old oak back of our dorm. “We both knew what could happen… each seeking separate ways for one year of service. We could have visited. We purposefully chose not to do so.”
“I still love you.”
“I love you. But Garth is where your heart is now. I see it when you talk about him. Your eyes used to glow like that when you spoke of me.”
“We promised each other.”
“We kept that promise. Let’s just rest here, collecting our memories, before we say goodbye.”
###
More Than All the Stars in the Sky by Norah Colvin
Child waited on the step, counting stars.
Soon the clatter of dishes ceased. Feet padded out.
Child snuggled into warm enveloping arms. The ritual began.
They picked out stars and constellations.
“And Venus,” said Child. “Tell me about the love planet!”
“Well,” began Parent. “Long ago there were two people who loved each other …”
“More than all the stars in the sky,” interjected Child.
“That they wanted a child to love too …”
“So you got me!” said Child.
“Yes.” Parent scooped up the child. “And just as there’ll always be stars …”
”We’ll always love each other!”
###
The Game by Larry La Forge
Ed was in heaven. The game of the year blasted on the big screen, sound system blaring. The frenzy seemed to leap through the TV into Ed’s living room. It doesn’t get any better than this, he thought.
Above the TV noise, a familiar sound was heard. The garage door movement meant Edna was returning from the grocery store loaded with the week’s supplies.
“This is going to be real interesting,” the TV announcer said, as though aware of Ed’s potential predicament.
Ed laughed, then immediately went out to unload the groceries for Edna — because that’s what you do.
###
faithful by Jules Paige
(haibun poem/ flash BOTS fiction)
there was no theft
nor any gentle persuasion
just the meeting and melding
of two soul mates
partners honoring
family traditions; then
tied the marriage knot
compromise, honor, respect
grows love every single day
***
How unusual is it to meet your future spouse at someone
else’s wedding? We did. Four homes, two children, two
grandchildren later… wasn’t that just yesterday?
We think so – though our silver locks say otherwise.
We celebrate everyday we are together with humor. So it
is a very nice surprise when I get flowers on our anniversary.
Because I don’t get ‘em every year.
###
Flash Fiction by Pete Fanning
Edwin was careful and patient, steering Dorothy clear of the debris. Broken beams and rusted nails littered the grounds. Shingles from the church house roof that had been removed, splintered boards and shims from the bullet shaped holes where stain glass windows once captured the rising sun. Yet the couple trudged on, as though headed for a Sunday sermon.
Traffic rushed past the future Rent-to-Own center, past the steeple laying in the grass. Past Edwin and Dorothy, lifelong lovers determined to renew the vows they’d made in that very same church on that very same day fifty years ago.
###
Years Later by Charli Mills
Sarah lost her nerve at the molasses pull. David Colbert McCanles flashed like a brook trout in his military school uniform, taller and more vibrant than any in the Greene barn. Mary Greene had nerve. She dominated dances, her laugh rich as summer honey.
That they married so soon took none by surprise. Sarah hid her love for Cobb until years later, when he’d stop by her father’s store at night. “Keeping books?” A simple question that kept her at the ledgers late, hoping he’d see her light burning.
She gained nerve when she should have told him no.
###
Love Grows by Irene WatersJake and I did everything together and told each other all our secrets. We knew the other as though we were one. We discussed our boyfriends and girlfriends, often going on double dates together. We solved the world’s problems and many of our own. Having similar interests it made sense to go to the theatre, opera, hikes, everything together. Above all else, we made each other laugh. Life was fun, enhanced by each other’s company. We were best friends.
Bosom buddies until he planned a trip to the Philippines to find a bride. Then I knew I loved him.
###
Love and Passion by Ruchira Khanna
Sarah aimed her glass at him, but instead it hit the table crashing to the floor into multiple pieces. She could see her heart in each of those broken fragments as she wept uncontrollably.
He looked from a distance but dared not come near.
Minutes ticked by, which seemed endless to both the individuals.
“Go, live your way!” she announced
“Thank you” he squealed and exited the room with a flying kiss to her.
Sarah took a deep breath and got up to clean the mess while her beau made a journey across continents to live off his passion.
###
Puppy Love by Geoff Le Pard
‘I hate you!’
Mary watched her daughter run indoors in tears. In an instant she was back thirty plus years to a similar argument with her mother over being dressed ‘inappropriately’.
She petted the dog who offered her two devoted brown eyes. ‘Are you the only one whose love is unconditioned?’ The dog nodded; she laughed.
‘What’s funny?’ Paul put the tea down.
‘Why are dumb animals the only ones who don’t make you work for their love?’
Paul eased himself onto the floor next to the dog and looked up at his wife. ‘Who are you calling dumb?’
###
The Beginning by Ann Edall-Robson
Weathered hands, brown from working outside, lay resting on her lap. She rocked slowly back and forth enjoying the sounds and the view. The voice from the creaking chair soothed her as it moved to her body rhythm. She could see everything from this spot on the wooden porch.
She remembered the beginning of their life together. A life that started during hard times and required hard work to survive. The foundation of what was now before her.
The initial introduction had been love at first sight. She had known from the beginning she belonged here. On this land.
###
Love by udosdottir
The box opened, a first glance and his heart beat faster. There was this delicate smell, and when he reached out to touch, he knew he was in love. His fingers ran along the delicious spine, his eyes examining the headband and tail. The skin on the front seemed to be tattooed. He never had seen anything like it before. All the details fit together so perfectly. His eyes met the vendor’s: “How much?”
The door closed behind the visitor, and he sighed a sigh of joy. He marvelled at his acquisition once more, and then started to read.
###
Marital Bliss by Ula Humienik
“Something’s been off with you. I can’t put my finger on it, but I feel like you’re slipping away. Remember how happy you were when Stephen was born?”
“I remember,” Lou smiled, “but what would really make me happy, Tom, is getting out of the house, doing what I love.”
“What’s that?” He seemed genuinely surprised, as if it hadn’t occurred to him that his wife could have other interests besides the family and their home.
Lou looked in pain, shocked by his reaction. “I want. I want more time to write.”
“Oh, that silly nonsense.” Tom seemed relieved.
###
Love Truly Is A Battlefield by Dave Madden
How does one define the intangible? Recently, glued to my monitor, I defined love: MMA.
MMA feeds my soul everything it needs, and I came to terms with this realization during a Titan Fighting Championships event, Titan FC 35.
Round after round, I now define love as:
Sheer excitement in the presence of another,
Great night of fights!
Even a cage can’t contain our devotion,
Distance growing the heart’s fondness,
Kindness,
A deep-rooted understanding of one another,
Care for what I think,
Periodically connecting with one another,
Bringing closure to matters with no judgments.
###
Nursing Love by Cindy Scott
“Remember when you were sick that weekend?” Sasha said at the table. “And I had to make you chicken bouillon in your microwave?” while watching tiny sparrows fight at the plastic feeder hanging on the porch.
“Well, no actually,” said Myron.
“Oh come on,” she said, “You mumbled in your sleep that night, ‘Gotta catch the viruses,’” she giggled in the early morning sunshine streaming into the kitchen.
“Oh, right. Well, I remember the time you hallucinated in your sleep,” he said.
“Dreaming?”
“Okay, dreaming. You said, ‘Get the frogs after them’.”
“Okay, touché,” she said smiling at him.
###
Neighborly Romance by Paula Moyer
Frances met Bill in third grade. Classmates ever since. First semester of college, both were music majors. She was his assigned accompanist. He played trombone.
Pearl Harbor.
Bill enlisted, Asked Frances to write to him. She did. They drifted apart.
Five years after the war, Frances walked home from the bus, right past Bill’s. His mother looked out the window.
“Bill, Bill,” she called. “There’s Frances! Better go get her.”
Bill called out the door, “Need a ride?”
The ride became dinner. Two weeks later: “Will you be my girl?”
They married six months later: 55 years, three kids.
###
Love in 99 Words by Shane Kroetsch
I watch as she takes a seat at her usual table, her hands wrapped around a large coffee cup.
I think about my dream last night.
We sat alone on a park bench, under a sky like amethyst.
“I think I’m ready,” I said.
“I’ve told you how it will end.”
“I know. It will be worth it.”
She smiled then, gave me a lingering kiss on the cheek, and the dream faded.
I stand and walk to her table. I focus on her warm, hazel eyes.
“Hi,” I say, “My name is Brandon. Mind if I join you?”
###
The Smile by Sarrah J. Woods
Lisa came from a world of cigarettes and food stamps—a world where you aimed to get by, not get ahead—a world where you aimed to be sexy, not beautiful.
But then the window cleaning company she worked for hired Ricky. He was younger than her and had crooked teeth, but he treated her so sweetly and respectfully that she felt like lace. He told her about his childhood and asked about her three-year-old’s favorite movies.
When he said, “You’re beautiful,” she knew he meant it. And the smile that bloomed across her face proved his words true.
###
A Country Love Story by C. Jai Ferry
I held up his ice cream. The pup sniffed it before sticking out his tongue for a lick. His tail wagged. He eyed me while his tongue darted out again.
When his head started shaking, I pulled the cup away, almost expecting his teeth to be chattering. He sat, adopting his polite “I’m waiting for you” pose. He didn’t seem to mind the brain freeze.
I held the cup out again. This time, he skipped the licking, instead gulping down the soft-serve in three bites.
He licked the cup clean, then noticed my dessert. His eyes were my Kryptonite.
###
Flash Fiction by Anne Goodwin
You saved me a seat in the lecture hall, knowing my bus was always late. You cheered louder than anyone when I got the prize for the highest marks in our year. You persuaded the corner shop to stock gluten-free croissants, so you could serve me breakfast in bed. You held me tight when the memories overwhelmed me, despite knowing no amount of holding could undo the past. You wore top hat and tails at our wedding, though more at home in jumpers and jeans. You did it all with perfect grace. You did it gladly, unthinkingly, for me.
###
Delivery by Pat Cummings
An intense cramp shot through Carrie’s back. Just a little more, just one more push, and she’d be free of the burden she carried. She turned her head to see Jacob watching with concern. They had begun the loving task together, but this pain was hers to endure.
A bead of sweat trickled; damp hair clung to her brow, but she had no energy left to shake it from her eyes.
Reaching the edge of the field, Carrie dropped her rock. Across the new field of the farm they both loved, she saw Jacob’s plow turn up another stone.
###
September 16: Flash Fiction Challenge
When the weather warms the air in the spring, bees rush from dandelion bloom to dandelion bloom. What many might find appalling to a green lawn, is the early nourishment of bees. As fall approaches in northern Idaho, the dandelions bloom again and feed the bees sluggish with cold.
No matter the season, no matter the times, love, like bees, must be fed. From youth to old age, love seeks the welcoming blooms that keep it alive.
The Hub is my cosmo. It’s a big purplish-pinkish flower that blooms when it damn well pleases, but I love its independent, wild spirit. It’s hardy, dependable and reseeds itself year after year. Just as the cosmo attracts bees, the Hub attracts me. For 28 years, in fact.
I’m reflecting on the longevity of love as we approach our anniversary. We’re no spring blossoms, but neither are we dead stalks. What keeps our love alive is the same for the bees — it’s all in what we feed it.
Monday night, our middle child arrived from Missoula, Montana. It had been a dry spell for me. My children are like dandelions that I hope to find in abundance in my life (I don’t mean I want an abundance of children, I just want to see and hug the ones I have abundantly). And I do believe that our love for others strengthens our love for our spouses and significants.
Through my husband I have a sister. I’ve often told her that even if the cosmo of our love fades and the Hub and I are no longer significant, I’ll still love her. By the Hub, we have three incredible children who are wild blooms of their own. Like the papa cosmo, they keep me tethered to the nourishment I derive from loving each one of them. Even my friend Kate who lost her bloom too early for me to stand, leaves the garden of her life still flourishing and drawing me near with new friends to love.
We need cosmos and bees in this world. We need to scatter love.
When we love, we smile at strangers. We open the door for another. We ask, “Where are you from?” and we listen. We see loving acts in the world. We commit loving acts at home. We hold hands. We hug. We feed those at our table. We invite others to our table. We pollinate the world with love.
“Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.” ~ Martin Luther King Jr.
“Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,
And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.” ~ William Shakespeare“If I had a flower for every time I thought of you…I could walk through my garden forever.” ~ Alfred Lord Tennyson
At this juncture of bees feeding in the autumn of life and that of my nearing wedding anniversary, I’m thinking about love 167 years ago.
On a wintry North Carolina, February 21, 1848, nineteen-year-old Cobb McCanles married fifteen-year-old Mary Green. She had black hair and brilliant blue eyes, a real Appalachian beauty. She was only 28 years old when Cobb was shot, and only one year older that her husband’s mistress, who was another dark-haired, blue-eyed beauty.
Love does not feed with the eyes no matter how much we believe that lie. The bee does not crawl all over the cosmo because it’s the prettiest of all the flowers. Pretty is subjective. The more we love someone, the more attractive they become in our own eyes. Even greater familiarity lends to a higher opinion of beauty. Cobb did not love Mary just because she was beautiful and Cobb did not have a mistress because she was more beautiful.
My theory is that Cobb noticed Mary over Sarah because Mary had a more outgoing personality. Cobb’s own father writes about her nature and how everyone was her friend. Mary loved. Sarah was shy and studious. She loved, too but quietly in her mind and from afar. She didn’t initiate the visits.
What changed? Mary lost her mother two years into marriage. I can’t help but think of the impact that had on her as a young wife and mother. Another two years later and Cobb ran a hard campaign to win the county election as sheriff. His budding career, her growing isolation at home with the children. You can read the strain in the pauses between children. In that longest pause, Cobb turned to Sarah. By then she was 22, a spinster because she wanted an educated man. Cobb was that, although he was also a family man.
And love for family won out. You can see a reconciliation in the timeline between Cobb and Mary. And if she wanted the reconciliation, she knew better how to love Cobb. Through his children. Her cooking. Her support of his career. Sarah became the one dependent on Cobb. She was shunned by family and community. Friendless, she asked to go to Nebraska. Why did Mary agree? How did that impact their relationship? What was the nature of their love once settled in Rock Creek?
Important questions as I explore through writing their stories. Love is broader art than the simple paintings historians give. None have tried to understand the love involved. Family. New friendships. Old temptations. When Mary died decades later, she let her tombstone state the finality of her love — she’s buried next to him, simply as Mary, wife of D.C. McCanles.
Yes, love is the air, flitting among the late blooms of dandelions, marigolds and cosmos. It was with our ancestors and it will be with our descendants. And it’s the prompt for the week.
September 16, 2015 prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a love story. Explore what feeds love. It can be romantic or platonic. It can be devoted or damaged. It can be recovering or enduring. Focus on characters or setting, weaving a 99-word love story.
Respond by September 22, 2015 to be included in the weekly compilation. Rules are here. All writers are welcome!
***
Years Later by Charli Mills
Sarah lost her nerve at the molasses pull. David Colbert McCanles flashed like a brook trout in his military school uniform, taller and more vibrant than any in the Greene barn. Mary Greene had nerve. She dominated dances, her laugh rich as summer honey.
That they married so soon took none by surprise. Sarah hid her love for Cobb until years later, when he’d stop by her father’s store at night. “Keeping books?” A simple question that kept her at the ledgers late, hoping he’d see her light burning.
She gained nerve when she should have told him no.
###