red writing hood

Distracted

Posted on November 3, 2011 Written by Tonya

The line expands and contracts as I watch people come and go throughout the 8:00 hour.

Busy hands operate whirling machines as they stir and whip up concoctions for patient and thirsty patrons looking for their morning fix.

Some customers are in a hurry; smart phones in hand, exuding an “I’m busier than you” attitude while others have all the time in the world and are overly chatty.

The requests I overhear are foreign to me: tall half-skinny half-1 percent extra hot split quad shot latte with whip, although the barista doesn’t even bat an eye.

Rich aroma and the latest indie band fill the air and I begin to feel intoxicated by both.

I have secured a small corner table and I have it and two hours all to myself.

There is quiet typing to my right and deep rhythmic breathing to my left.

I pick up my pen, watch the sun dance across a blank notebook page, try hard to clear my head and begin writing.

This post was also written for Write on Edge’s writing meme, Red Writing Hood. This week’s prompt: Take me to your version of 8:00 – AM or PM, fiction or creative nonfiction- in 200 words or less. Constructive criticism is welcome.

Mornings

Posted on November 2, 2011 Written by Tonya

8 AM again and my feet won’t stop from the moment they hit the ground.

There are hugs and kisses and cuddles in between picking up, putting away and preparing for day ahead.

Noise, chaos and laughter swirl around our kitchen and I realize I wouldn’t want it any other way.

More kisses as Daddy leaves for work.

Breakfast is served, lunch box is packed, we are dressed and out the door, but not before one last struggle to put on shoes.

As I drive home alone, I pray his teachers are patient with him, his classmates are kind and he uses his manners.

I count down the hours until I can see my buddy again.

I am a mother.

This post was written for Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop, Prompt 3.) Write a post that is eight lines long. (inspired by Mommy Nani Boo Boo).

This post is was also written for Write on Edge’s writing meme, Red Writing Hood. This week’s prompt: Take me to your version of 8:00 – AM or PM, fiction or creative nonfiction- in 200 words or less. Constructive criticism is welcome.

The Perfect Playmate

Posted on September 22, 2011 Written by Tonya

Parents of an unruly two year old desperately seek playmate for their son.

Applicants must be easy going, polite, capable of patiently waiting for their turn, can take “no” for an answer and always pick up their toys when asked. Assistance and guidance will be provided as needed.

Interested parties are expected to challenge our son in such a way that he won’t know what hit him by forcing him to share his toys, books, dessert, crayons, photo ops, Christmas mornings, family vacations, doting parents and possibly clothes.

If applicant is male, he must be willing to share a room and wear hand-me-downs (see above), if applicant is female, she should be able to live with pink toile and either way, should be comfortable forever being known as “the baby”.

A cuddler is preferred but not mandatory.

As the “terrible twos” and maybe even threes (God, help us) subside, candidates should be able to look up to their big brother with admiration, respect, jealousy, animosity and love, all in equal measure. I assure you, he will do the same for you, as well as help guide and protect you. Our hope is that the two of you will become and remain the best of friends.

Although we are not picky, please note that we have been waiting a long time to find the perfect playmate for our son, but know the end of our search is drawing near and believe our home and hearts are open and ready for one more; one more little heart and soul to love and care for, one more set of hands to hold and life to share. We promise to love you as much as our first, but please hurry!

This post is was written for Write on Edge’s writing meme, Red Writing Hood. This week’s prompt: Write a 300 word (or less) personal ad. Constructive criticism is welcome.

Searching For Peace

Posted on June 24, 2011 Written by Tonya

Even though she hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in days, she woke up before the sun.

There were no more international calls to make or receive; all the details had been handled to the best of her ability, knowledge and strength.

The photos and music had been carefully selected and the difficult but necessary phone calls made.

She bought a new black dress that she knew would hang in her closet forever but only be worn once.

The obituary had been written and ran in the newspaper the previous day. She will always wonder how there can be a word limit when describing a person’s life. Let alone two. How do you convey all the wonderful qualities about someone and list the reasons why they will be missed in 300 words or less?

This morning she would do something life affirming.

She wanted a chance to forget for a while; to do something that she would do any given day so as to feel the slightest bit normal.

A walk through a beautiful canyon. She would immerse herself in abundant wildlife, get lost in hillsides resplendent with palo verde trees, graceful groves of ocotillo and prickly pear cactus.

She wanted to be surrounded by life, to fill her eyesight with nature and growth so that her dark and broken heart may heal someday.

Today was a day to remember, mourn and begin searching for peace.

This post is fiction and was written for The Red Dress Club’s writing assignment, Red Writing Hood. This week’s prompt: Write a 300 word piece using the following word for inspiration: LIFE. Constructive criticism is welcome.

Posted on May 27, 2011 Written by Tonya

This was absolutely the last time was going to do this. The final time she would ever put herself at risk. She’d been lucky up until now. Very lucky.

But, there were so many things she wanted. How could she give it up when merely entering the department store made her heart beat faster and her forehead perspire.

She did it for the rush.

She did it for the goods.

The racks and racks of beautiful designer clothing were too tempting. All her life she’d worn hand-me-downs. Not anymore.

She dreamed of owning a rainbow of make-up and perfume that smelled like money and now she did.

Which section should she hit today?

The shoe department was bustling and shoes were easy. All you had to do was keep walking…. straight out the front door.

The allure of the jewelry counter was as sparkly and shiny as ever. If that dizzy blond was working today, that would be a cinch too.

Keep your cool. You’ve done this dozens of times.

She gotten away with it before, in fact nothing she was wearing was paid for. She was slowly filling her closets with cashmere and silk and her ears, wrists and neck donned diamonds and other precious gems.

She wanted more.

“Sir, do you have these in red in 7 1/2?”

“Right away, miss.”

And there was nothing standing in her way today.

As soon as the salesman walked away, she let out a deep breath and thought, You’ve got to be kidding, $715 for a pair of shoes?! It would take me 10 shifts to make that much dough.

“Here you go, I brought them in gray too.”

“Wonderful, thank you. I’ll just take them for a little stroll.”

“Very well, I’ll be here when you get back.”

As soon as she slipped them on her feet and made sure that the sales clerk was a “safe” distance away, she casually picked up her over sized handbag and turned on her heel.

Keep your cool. You’ve done this a million times.

She walked right past the handbags and scarves and finally saw sunlight through the large glass door.

You’re almost there. This will be the last time. Just keep walking, you’re scot-free.

Heavy footsteps.

“Excuse me, Miss? Miss? Excuse me, do you have something you’d like to pay for?”

She was wrong.

This post is fiction and was written for The Red Dress Club’s writing assignment, Red Writing Hood. This week’s prompt: Write a short piece that begins with the words, “This was absolutely the last time” and ends with “She was wrong.” Constructive criticism is welcome.

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Silence

Posted on April 14, 2011 Written by Tonya

It had been five years.

Five years of old wounds, words left unexpressed, tears and pride.

Five years with zero communication.

No I hope you are smiling today text messages, no family photos were e-mailed, no three hour phone calls just because, no humorous you’ll always be older birthday cards or holiday greetings. There were no weekend visits or three glasses of wine long lunches.

Silence.

Regret.

Loss.

It was as if their connection, their friendship never even existed.

One

Two

Three rings

Part of her was relieved when she saw the name appear on her phone screen, although, it was after midnight. What a strange time to choose to extend an olive branch she thought.

The name she saw illuminated in the dark was one that had crossed her mind so many times as she wondered how the person who it belonged to was doing. She would always silently send love and light and then would go on about her day.

She was relieved to see the name now because at last, the ice had been broken and she was grateful that she hadn’t had been the one to take the first step.

She was angry too. At herself. She should have been the bigger person, she should be the one reaching out.

Lastly, she was surprised that the name and number were still stored in her phone. But, then again of course they were.

Four

Five

Six rings.

Letting the call go to voice mail would be the easiest course of action and the most cowardly.

She turned on the lamp on the bedside table, took a deep breath and answered the call.

Before she could say a word, she heard:

“Hello, I’m Sean.”
Who? Was he crying?

“You don’t know me. I’m your sister’s husband.
What the hell? She got married?! I suppose a lot can happen in five years.

I’m using her phone. I, um found your number in her contacts.”
She still has my number in her phone too.

“Okay?”

There was a long pause and a very heavy sigh and somehow she knew that the next words out of his mouth would change her life forever.

“Well, you see, um, there has been an accident. She didn’t make it.”

“What?”

“Your sister and our daughter died tonight in a car accident. I thought you should know.”

Silence.

Regret.

Loss.

Nothing would keep me from talking to my sister! This post is fiction and was written for The Red Dress Club’s writing assignment, Red Writing Hood. This week’s prompt was to write a piece surrounding the following details: In the middle of the night, you get an urgent call from a friend you haven’t talked to in years. Something terrible has happened. What is it and why is he/she calling you?

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If I’m Lucky

Posted on March 10, 2011 Written by Tonya

I am pushing 40 with both hands.

40.

I remember when 40 was old.

I’m not dreading growing old(er) all that much. I honestly don’t mind the numbers of years I am because I don’t feel a day over 33. I believe aging is both a state of mind and a physiological fact.

Sure it takes me longer to bounce back from the flu, lose the customary holiday five pounds I gain and hangovers feel like death, but I still feel 33.

It’s hard to believe that in just 15 short months, I’ll be ringing in a brand new decade.

Some of my best friends are already there, the big 4-0 and they exude high energy, vitality and youthfulness. They look amazing and I hope to be just like that in June, 2012.

Too bad there are always the ugly voices. You know the ones…. the voices in our heads that tell us that everything of value is young and new and I’m simply not anymore.

The voices that both criticize and curse every new wrinkle, flaw, blemish and gray hair that sprouts up.

The voices that convince that jumping out of an airplane, getting a tattoo, taking up pilates, learning a foreign language and getting Botox will make us feel and look young again.

Some days my face feels so disorganized. Everything is shifting and it’s almost as if it’s been hanging in the closet for too long. I feel unattractive, haggard and tired. Perhaps it’s just motherhood? I don’t feel that way on the inside, so it’s hard to witness the changes occurring on the outside.

If I’m lucky, every once in a while the voices subside and I recall why I have crow’s feet, furrows along my brow and lines around my mouth and I see the pure and simple beauty in them.

I’m proud of my lines and my age because I’ve earned them. I’ve laughed until I cried and cried until I laughed. I have lived, loved, lost, fell down, picked myself back up, traveled, read, seen, met, stuck my foot in my mouth, tasted, heard, touched, experienced, shared, learned and still want more!

I love each and every single line on my face because they make up my beautiful life. All 38 years of it, but only if I’m lucky.

This post is for The Red Dress Club’s writing assignment, Red Writing Hood. This week’s prompt was to write a short piece, either fiction or non-fiction, about something ugly – and find the beauty in it.

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Feeling Human

Posted on March 3, 2011 Written by Tonya

She had been waiting for this moment all day long.

As soon as her husband walked through the front door, she wanted to run into their bedroom, lock the door and crawl into bed.

But she waited. Patiently.

She waited until after kissed her softly on the cheek, changed out of his suit and grabbed himself a beer.

He plopped down on the couch next to her and she proceeded quickly to fill him in on the day’s activities, which weren’t much different than the day before or the day before that. Then after a long pause she said that she needed some time to herself.

She explained that she couldn’t even remember brushing her teeth that morning or if she ate. With the indirect mention of food, she apologized for there being no dinner on the table again tonight and then exclaimed what she really wanted was a hot shower. And a glass of wine.

“Of course”, he said and scurried off to the kitchen, opened a bottle of her favorite Cabernet and poured her a glass.

With raised eyebrows and a smile, she took it from him when he returned to the living room.

“I’ve got this, go have a shower, enjoy your wine and try to relax,” he urged.

These were the most beautiful words she had heard all day. Perhaps the only words she had heard all day.

“Really?”, and before he could give it a second thought, she tip toed down the hall to their bedroom and once safely inside, closed the door behind her and heard it click.

She waited and listened.

Silence.

Setting her wine on the wide lip of the porcelain sink, she turned the hot water on in the shower and as the bathroom filled with warm steam, she felt her body slowing start to relax.

She stripped off her worn out khakis, underwear, stained oversize sweatshirt and threadbare nursing bra; stuffed her hair in a shower cap and stepped into the shower.

The water felt warm and inviting, reminiscent of a hug.

Such a simple pleasure, a shower.

Without really thinking about it, she pulled the shower cap off her head and let her long blond hair cascade down her back. Too much of an ordeal to dry it, she hadn’t intended to get her hair wet at all, but she couldn’t help herself, the water was beckoning, breathing new life into her and she wanted nothing more than to wash this day away. It had started far too early and had gotten increasingly difficult as the hours wore on. Every part of her body ached and she was exhausted. She let the water do it’s magic.

There was one thing missing. Longingly, through the foggy shower door, she stared at her full glass of wine. Oh well, she thought, a shower was what I really needed.

She scrubbed her body with a loofah, used the fancy French lavender body wash her sister-in-law had given her for her birthday, shaved her legs, washed and conditioned her hair, applied a face mask and brushed and flossed her teeth. It’s amazing how much good a shower and a little personal grooming can do, she thought.

After what seemed like an hour or more, she rejoined her husband back on the couch with her still full glass of wine in hand and felt refreshed and calm.

“How did it go?”, she whispered.

With a hand gesture, as if presenting his most prized possessions, he said, “Not a peep.”

“Good. I needed that. I’m feeling human again. So, why don’t you tell me about your day?” She was about to enjoy her first sip of wine and connect with her husband for the first time in what seemed like days when…one, two and then three tiny cries, one from each of the bassinets in front of them demanding her attention.

She knew it had been two hours since their last feeding, so with a heavy sigh, she murmured, “Maybe later?” and they both stood up to attend to their triplets.

This post is fiction and was written for The Red Dress Club’s writing meme, Red Writing Hood. This week’s prompt was to write a short piece – fiction or non-fiction – inspired by one or both of these statements: Water gives life. It also takes it away.

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This Thing Has Got To Go!

Posted on February 24, 2011 Written by Tonya

My iPhone and I have a love/hate relationship and I think we need a little time a part. To put it mildly, our relationship has gotten out of hand. One of us is obsessed and the other could care less.

The iPhone: a hundred different habit forming items all in one sleek package.

What would you give for a device that was designed to keep you connected, entertained, informed and make you completely crazy?

Let me explain…

I love being able to look up anything and everything that pops in my head on the Internet; I can self-diagnose a nonexistent medical condition, figure out the name of that guy in that movie, or the title of the song that I can’t stop humming and drool over the J. Crew spring line.

I hate to use it for phone calls, but love to text.

I love that I can keep track of important dates, play Scrabble, update my Facebook status and use the built-in GPS to find my way.

I hate that it distracts me from my son, but love that I can capture daily photos of him with it.

I hate that it is the ultimate time waster and my #1 reason for not reading more, but love having it while waiting for a friend to show up for a lunch date, stuck in a long line or at my doctor’s office.

I hate being so accessible, but love that my babysitter always picks up and is quick to respond.

I love that it can hold my entire music collection and a special play list just for Lucas.

I hate that the battery life is so short. My house has five power cords and I can never find one!

I love being able to check the weather, tag a song on the radio and shake in to find the closest eatery.

I hate that the damn thing was so expensive that I treat it as a second child, even with a hard case and screen protector.

I love Tweeting long after my husband has gone to sleep and making lists of blog ideas I have at 3 in the morning.

I hate that it won’t let me use my potty mouth in texts or Tweets without auto correcting me… hell becomes he’ll, which makes absolutely no sense whatsoever!

Yes, the iPhone can be and do so many wonderful/evil things.

Okay, I am ready to take bids!

What would you give?

C’mon, you know you want one!

These things really are amazing.

Actually, looking back over my list, I do believe my loves outweigh my hates…

On second thought, I think I’ll keep it.

Grr. That damn thing, it always knows how to push my buttons.

This post is for The Red Dress Club’s writing meme, Red Writing Hood. This week’s prompt was to write a humorous ad, a la Craigslist or eBay, where you’re selling things after a breakup.

This is my 500th post!

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Hopes, Dreams & Wishes – Redux

Posted on February 17, 2011 Written by Tonya

I wrote this piece last year when I had all of three followers and I immediately thought of it when I read this week’s Red Writing Hood’s writing prompt: Write a piece about finding a forgotten item of clothing in the back of a drawer or closet. Let us know how the item was found, what it is, and why it’s so meaningful to you or your character.

With some editing, here is Hope, Dreams & Wishes:

Long before I ever thought I’d have children and certainly long before I had Lucas, I bought this little sweater. I found it at Old Navy, of all places. It was originally $16.50 and had been marked down to $3.99. The tag is still on it.

From the moment I saw it, I thought it was precious.

Navy blue is my favorite color and I loved the adorable red heart with the arrow going through it and something came over me and I just had to have it. I remember thinking at the time while standing in the check out line, I’m nowhere near ready to have children, why on earth am I buying this?!? I don’t even have a boyfriend.

It took me a while to realize that this tiny little sweater represented something stupendous and wonderful. Something bigger than myself. Something that was yet to be. It represented where my life was going to be someday. Where my life, if I was lucky enough, was heading…

True love, romance, marriage, children, cuddles, giggles, and a lifetime of memorable firsts and happy moments.

A childhood, not unlike my own.

The sweater stayed safely wrapped in tissue paper in the bottom of my pajama drawer for years, but each February when Valentine’s Day rolls around, I remember the sweater.

Just last week, ironically the week before Valentine’s Day, I was organizing Lucas’ closet and I came across this tiny sweater. I was about to add it to the donation pile until I realized what it was.

Maybe someday we’ll have a little sister for Lucas, as the sweater is far too feminine for him to wear and at size 3-6 months, far too small for him anyway.

I gingerly put the sweater back on the hanger, returned it to the closet and there it will stay as a peaceful reminder that so many of my hopes, dreams and wishes have already come true.

Click here to read the original piece posted February 12, 2010: Hopes, Dreams & Wishes.

Distracted

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