These are the thoughts and observations of me — a woman of a certain age. (Oh, my, God, I'm 60!) I'm single. I'm successful enough (independent, self supporting). I live in the burbs and work in the city (Chicago, the best city in the world). I'm an aunt, a friend and a colleague. I feel that voices like mine are rather underrepresented online or in print. So here I am. If my musings resonate with you, please visit my blog again sometime.
Monday, July 02, 2012
This week's challenge: Using between 33 and 333, compose something that includes the third definition of the following word:
FIREWORKS (noun) 3: plural a: display of temper or intense conflict b: a spectacular display
The fireworks weren’t anything new. She experienced them in
every relationship. She was, after all, passionate. About many things. About
most things. And when her energy rises and the air becomes electric, sparks just
What's different this time, with him, is that when the
fireworks display is done, it’s over. She isn’t oppressed by dread. She’s not
worrying about the aftershocks. Because there won’t be any. They disagree, they
argue, they reach resolution, they move on. Amazing!
When emotion overtakes her and her thinking is ruled more by
passion than logic, he challenges her. And she gets her back up. But his
umbrage never rises to meet hers. Instead he reminds her, “I’m not saying
you’re wrong, I’m saying you’re not clear.” Amazing!
She had grown up in a household where her father could
not be questioned. He was inviolate, resolute and right. Anyone who disagreed
with him could depend on being ridiculed. Demeaned. It happened to her, it
happened to her mother. She fought unsuccessfully to protect her baby sister. She always felt bad about leaving home and abandoning the kid to that.
Then she wasted a decade with Stephen. With him, an
explosion was always preceded by the tinkling of ice cubes. Then the tension
escalated, inexorably leading to an eruption of verbal and physical violence.
Followed by much sorrow, many regrets, romantic kindnesses and even gifts. She
couldn’t relax and enjoy these good
times because it was difficult to predict when those dangerous aftershocks
would hit. Along with the blame. This was all always her fault. She made him do it. If
only she were more feminine, more acquiescent, none of this would happen.
There was none of that with this amazing man. He says with a
smile that he wishes he was as passionate about anything as she is about
They disagree, they argue, they reach resolution, and they
move on … Amazing!