Tossing the Chimes

by Cynthia on February 11, 2019

I used to sing. Years ago. But when I decided to have kids, I willingly gave it up. I wanted to be home with my girls. But I missed it. So sometimes I’d get the kids settled down (nap time, color time, Sesame Street) and I would go into my room, close the door and pull out the guitar.
The lyrics I wrote are in some notebook or another. The music is only in my head. I used to have a tape but it disappeared long ago.
Tonight, a cold wind is blowing outside. I hear it tossing the chimes around.
And I am singing one of my songs called The Storm.
The wind is only part of what’s bringing it up. Tonight, there is someone on my mind, someone who made me think of it.

The Storm

The wind is blowing, sky’s turning black.
Now that it’s coming, no turning back.
You said you’d ride on the wings of the storm tonight
Wanna fly so high
Better hold on tight.
While others run for shelter and candlelight, you’re gonna ride on the wings of the storm.

I’m a watcher.
Got a front row seat.
I don’t wanna get burned.
I just want to feel the heat.
And I have never been able to understand, how you can stand there and dare your life to end.
How can you burn your candle at both ends?
How can you ride on the wings of the storm?

Are you a seeker, just in it for the thrill?
Or are the watchers closing in for the kill?
Is it just for the excitement or is it that you feel like you’ve gotta keep doing what they expect you to do?
You knew it wouldn’t be easy living in others’ view.
About as easy as riding a storm.
About as easy as riding the storm.

This one’s for you. And maybe it was for you way back when I wrote it. Who knows.

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Flipping Good

by Cynthia on February 3, 2019

I was driving home tonight.
It was already dark.
I imagine the Super Bowl was still going on but, I’m not sure. I didn’t watch it.
I had a writing project to work on.
I turned a corner and caught movement in my peripheral.
It was a boy, probably between five and seven.
He was in his flannel pajamas, robe, and slippers, jumping on a trampoline in his side yard.
I caught him just as he did a back flip.
Then another.
And another.
He was amazing.
From my point of view, the flips were flawless.
I wondered if his parents were caught up in the game.

I imagined him sneaking quietly out the side door so he could do something he really loved.

Back flip.
Back flip.
Back flip.

And I realized, that’s how I feel about my writing when I’m excited about a project. Only, I don’t have to sneak out a side door, or a back door, but I CAN do it in PJs if I want to.

So here I go. I’d better get back to my project.

Back flip.
Back flip.
Back flip.

Not as flawless as his. And I hope I don’t get dizzy before I finish.

Maybe you should get back to your trampoline, too.
Talk to you soon.

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HAVE A !%$*&@! DAY

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Lies, Lies, Lies

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On this day, I write

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I have my reasons and you have yours.

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We all do what we feel we have to at any given moment and those actions we cannot justify, we rationalize. Notice I didn’t say we always do what we feel is right. There’s a big difference. BESIDES . . . what’s right for you could easily wrong someone else (see my post  What’s your […]

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Mares do eat oats, right?

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