Firefly Days
 I’m pretty sure I met an angel on a recent Dunkin Donuts run. It was that kind of day. The kind where it’s pouring rain and 5 things have gone wrong before breakfast. I very savvily used my app to place my order and pulled up to the drive through, waited in a long line only to be told to pull forward because my order wasn’t ready. A parked 18 wheeler blocked me from pulling out of the way of the line behind me. Someone blasted their horn at me. No coffee, no donuts, the rain… the horn was the last straw. I managed to pull into a space somewhere so far away in the tiny crowded parking lot, I was sure no one would find me to bring out my order.
I watched and waited, squinting through the rain. Finally, a tall young man with dreadlocks appeared with a box of donuts. He looked a bit like a young Bob Marley. He smiled; his gold tooth gleamed at me. He had even doubled bagged my order, bless his heart. “Have a blessed day,” he said. And somehow I knew I would. I went home in the rain, humming Every Little Thing’s Gonna Be Alright. I have always thought somewhere walking behind me, I had a guardian angel. I pictured a tall, imposing figure, probably shaking his head and smacking his forehead a lot. But maybe, just maybe God sends us everyday angels to tell us Every Little Thing’s Gonna Be Alright.
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 Sometimes I feel the world is just spinning too fast. Everyone seems to want everything bigger, louder, and instantly. Everywhere I look, someone is wanting their piece of the pie, their fair share. I used to hear it’s the little things that matter most. Now everyone is telling me go big or go home. And I am supposed to hurry up about it. This was especially evident recently when my husband and I celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary. Well-meaning friends said, “25 is BIG! Go on a cruise. Go to Paris.” Go big or go home. Knowing an elaborate vacation was out of the question, I did daydream about Paris. After all, it’s Paris. I imagined myself standing in front of the Eiffel Tower in the City of Lights, wearing a beret, my long red scarf blowing in the wind. “Bonjour,” they would say. “Bonjour, ya’ll,” I would answer back. We would visit museums. We would shop. We would eat fancy pastries. We would go big. Then we would go home. Of course, the 3 boys that live under my roof were not in my daydream. And being the good Momma I am, I wasn’t really going to run off to Paris and leave them so far away. So we settled on Warm Springs, a mere 45 minutes from home. Because the good Momma in me always thinks about the what ifs. Warm Springs holds a special place in my heart because it’s where we spent our honeymoon. As a broke young newlywed blinded by the hearts in my eyes, it was the most beautiful place on Earth. It was quiet and sweet and full of antiques and Christmas lights. It was right out of a Charles Dickens story. I wondered if it would seem different after all these years. Would it seem small-ish? After all, it doesn’t get much more not Paris than Warm Springs, Georgia. Somehow, in a world that has continued to spin out of control, this little place has indeed remained small-ish, wonderfully small-ish. Maybe it was the hearts in my eyes or the millions of little twinkling white Christmas lights, but The City of Lights didn’t hold a candle to Warm Springs that night. We went small, and we went home. And it was big.  An owl lives under my pillow. It’s a little stuffed thing I got for Christmas one year. Santa Claus knows I love animals. And he knows I am a chronic teeth clencher and need something to squeeze at night. After all, he knows when I am sleeping and he knows when I am awake, right? So the theory is, if I squeeze the owl, I won’t clench my teeth. Theoretically…. I have also began doing yoga during my morning quiet time. Not wanting the noise of an instructor, I opted for yoga cards instead of a dvd. The cards show poses and have instructions on the back. The idea is that you can custom make your own routine and you will then feel calm and ready to tackle the world. Theoretically… This didn’t seem to be working as well as I had hoped so I signed up for an actual class. The kind where I had to leave the house, wear yoga clothes in public, and listen to a real instructor. And that is where I learned my lesson. The first thing we did in class was be still. Be still and know that I am God….Psalm 46:10 kept coming to my mind. I’d been doing it all wrong. In my effort to get my morning quiet time done, checked off my to-do list, I had been rushing through it all and missing the relaxation part of it. One thing the instructor kept saying is Breathe. The back of my cards say Breathe too. So, if I can remember to be still, maybe I will remember the rest of the verse: and know that I am God. If I can remember that, I can remember that I don’t have to rush around getting everything done. It puts things in perspective. It puts me in connection with my creator and the creator of everything. Breathe… And if I can remember all of that, maybe I won’t need the owl under my pillow. Theoretically… Namaste, Ya’ll.
 Recently, my appliances have been teaming up against me. First the dishwasher quit, then the washer and dryer. Last week when the washer died, she was in the middle of a cycle and full of water! AND she was a front loader! After I gave her a few swift kicks, I thought to myself So much for Nellie Whirlpool and that is where the idea for this post came from. Creative inspiration is everywhere :)
Obituary for Nellie Whirlpool Nellie Whirlpool expired this week. The cause of death is unknown, but an autopsy revealed she was full of mold. There is also speculation that she may have choked on a mouth full of clothes. She was quite picky. It would be nice to say she lived a long and full life, but the truth is she was lazy, did not live up to her potential, and expired young. There is some comfort in her death, knowing that she was accompanied by her partner, June Whirlpool. June was under severe distress and frequently became severely overheated. She also expired at an unusually young age with a mouth full of unmatched socks. Both Nellie and June were preceded in death by Frankie Frigidaire who at the tender age of 10 decided she was quite finished with life. She became sluggish, leaked on the floor, and expired with a belly full of very dirty dishes. The three of them have been replaced and will not be remembered fondly. Honored to be on Southern Writers Magazine's Blog, Suite T today. To read the article, click the link below:
southernwritersmagazine.blogspot.com/2018/04/whats-point.html Click below to read Harlan and Gert, a flash fiction published in New Southern Fugitives Issue 12 from Southern Fried Karma Press. Harlan and Gert are aging, but they aren't ready for a home, no matter what their kids say! http://www.newsouthernfugitives.com/issues/issue-12/harlan-and-gert/ Duke the Dachshund is back with his Christmas tale for Susanna Hill's Annual Holiday Contest. Read Duke's story below and here is the link to the contest so you can read the other wonderful stories. https://susannahill.com/blog/ A Hot Dog’s Christmas (194 words) “Here Duke,” my humans call. “We have a surprise!” I jump and waggle. I can’t believe my eyes. There is a present Under the tree. A present they say Is just for me! “Hurry Duke!” they call. “Hurry! Run!” “You’ll like this, Duke!” “This is fun!” Suddenly, I am cautious. I stop dead on my feet. I’ve heard this before When it was Trick or Treat. I remember that night. Now I want to run. I remember they dressed me As a hot dog — in a bun! But, it’s almost Christmas So I go to the tree. I slink over To get the gift they have for me. After all, it’s a surprise. But it isn’t any better. This present? It’s a sweater! This is not right! This is wild. I’m a dachshund, Not a child! I am so insulted, This isn’t fair. I don’t need a sweater! I’m covered with hair! I want a toy, a leash, or a bone. But on it goes, over my head. I look ridiculous, Like Great Uncle Ned. I want to bite an ankle, Maybe a knee. But I don’t dare Because Santa is watching me!  Recently, I had the pleasure of taking a master writing class taught by Rick Bragg. I learned so much and afterwards, I asked the Pulitzer Prize winning author to sign my copy of one of his many books. He winked at me and asked where I am from. I said, “I’m from right here.” He signed my book, “Tonya, from right here.” Mr. Bragg has a wonderful sense of humor, but those words got me thinking about where “right here” really is…
“Right here” is so much more than a hometown. It’s a corner of time and space that belongs to a person. Today my “right here” is a very old house filled with dirty dishes and piles of laundry. It is a life full of unfinished projects, aging parents, and growing kids. It is a kitchen table full of bills to be paid and lists to be shopped. I am learning to embrace the mess, even the laundry that seems to self regenerate minus a few socks every week, because it’s my mess. It’s my circus and my monkeys and my bills — everything in my “right here” is about someone I love. Most importantly, my “right here” is a life full of the love and laughter of my high school sweetheart and our three boys. It is a life unfinished with so much fun, so much promise and I thank the Lord for all of it, every day. So, the next time I wish I was somewhere else; I am going to remind myself to be thankful for my “right here” because “right here” is where I belong.  Happy Halloween! Here is my entry to the Halloweensie writing contest- 100 word story for kids and here is the link to the contest: https://susannahill.com/2017/10/27/the-7th-annual-halloweensie-contest-aahhhrrrooooooooo/ Hot Dog! It’s Halloween
By Tonya Calvert 93 Words It’s dark under here Hot too The family dressed me What could I do? I tried to run They said, “Come Duke, it’s fun!” So now I'm out here Trick or treat? All I see is feet! This is wild I’m a dachshund! Not a child! So here I am Parading at night Shadows and monsters What a fright! This is no fun! They dressed me As a hot dog ... In a bun! I want to bite an ankle Maybe a knee But candy corn just fell And no one saw But me! |
Winks of inspiration surround us– “Firefly Days”
 
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