Daily Prompt: Race the Clock/The Daily Post


Here’s the title of your post: “An Offer I Couldn’t Refuse.”

365:277 The Ticking Clock

Set a timer for ten minutes, and write it. Go!

When I was a young child, I had a friend named Pam. Pam came from a different up-bringing than I did. Her parents loved her so much, they gave her everything and also gave into every whim.

My parents brought me up with tough love. I was guided by rules and regulations and love.

Pam was a friend I had made in elementary school. We went through grades K-6 together. She was beautiful. I can still see her in my mind, even though I have not seen her for so many years. She had brown wavy hair that reached half way down her back. Big brown eyes, freckles, and she was thin, where I was the curly blonde, blue eyes, and chubby, or as mom used to say, healthy looking!

Now when you place two opposites together,  you get problems. No problems for us two girls, but problems with my own parents. Every suggestion, and offer Pam  made, I never turned down.

We played together every summer.  I stayed at her house, she stayed at mine. Her dad and I worked at the same company. Her mother did not work, mine did. We would ride our bikes up town and go through all the alleys. We would stop at the now famous place that Al likes to eat at, and go inside to the soda fountain, and buy a milk shake and share it.

She had money and I did not, so she always bought. We would ride our bikes over to other little friend’s houses, and stop and play with them, never counting the minutes on the clock, before leaving.

One day her mischievous little mind suggested we ride to the cemetery, and I got on my bike with no hesitation and no looking at the clock first, and we took off for our new adventure. We rode all through the cemetery, reading many names. We would get off of our bikes and lie down beside caskets to see  how tall they were!  How stupid was that?

I have many good memories of her and me, but if I could talk to my mother beyond this universe, I am sure she would still be scolding me. Yes, I worried her, and I forced her to have to drive down to my friend’s house to find out if I was there.

I was punished so many times by having to be grounded from playing with Pam, but evidently, when I look back, the punishments were never severe enough, because when mom would go to work the next day, I would return to my friend’s house on my two feet, since only my bike was grounded!

I smile now, as I sit here thinking back, at the little things I did as a kid, but also look at the issues in the world today, and not coming home on time from a friend’s was by far nothing to the drug issues today, the bullying of others, and the fatal shootings.

If I could talk to my mom today, she would now look at me and say, I love you and be careful. Try to be home at the time that I have asked you to be. She would realize that being late was nothing to worry about, right? Or do you think because she loved me that she would still ground me and scold me?  Oh geesh, I bet she would still go to my friend’s house, looking for me, and then when she found me, I would be grounded from my bike once again!

One Day At A Time


When someone is aching, hurting, crying, or smiling, we all want to be a part of this. It is our human nature to want to share, comfort, laugh and cry with our friends.

As most of you know, Friday was almost like the hell day of my year.

I am not usually the one who will reach out to anyone. Some of you are probably saying, no way! You always let us know your feelings, but this is new to me, an area that I had never ventured into my entire life.

While I was married to my ex who was so emotionally and sometimes physically abusive, the only one I ever confided in was my daughter. I had too much pride and didn’t want anyone to know that I could not FIX this problem. I have always looked at my self as a survivor and fixer person of life.

I could not fix my problems but I could fix others. I could not give myself a hug, but I could hug even a stranger if I saw sad eyes in on their face. I could put on the happy face if anyone came near, but as soon as they left my sight, the running tears were once again returning to their prior place.

Before I started this blog in March of this year, I had asked God so many times, what can I do with myself while I am sitting here caring for my brother? I did not get an answer for months, and then one day I was sitting talking to my best friend that lives a couple of hours away, and she suggested I write. I laughed it off, as I knew I was no near good enough to write, but she kept telling me, just write from your heart. This will let people see the real you.

Why don’t I talk to my children like this, from the heart? Maybe because I am the mother. Mommies don’t spill their guts to their children, we are the adults, and their lives are to filled with laughter and innocence, but now looking back, I wish I would have.

After having such a terrible day, my friend who lives near by came to visit. Before this visit happened, I had spilled my guts to all of you, which is becoming easier and easier. It has taught me that we all have issues going on each day, that mine are no different from yours, just different situations. It sort of made me feel like I fit in and was not such an odd ball.

Each of you gave and brought me comfort. Comfort in words,  prayers, phone calls. It is like I know each of you better than I even know myself.

When my friend came to visit, she brought me a kit she had ordered. It was a birthday gift for me. She and I spent the afternoon cutting wires, wrapping pearl pins with floral tapes, finding the correct way to force the natural turkey feathers to spread their fingers. After she left, I put the finishing touches of red on it and placed it on my bird bench.

Now each time I walk by it, I thank each of you and my dear friend, for holding me up, and showing me that you are a friend to me, and that God will never leave me, it would be me leaving God.

I wanted to show you the finished product. It is my first time at crafting, and I am not very good, but I am proud of what I accomplished and what it represents. It is to be the Charlie Brown Christmas tree, which stands straggly, and not too pretty, but it remains strong with all of its inner beauty for all to see. God is good. He provides the perfect answer each time. Now I have to conquer the next quest of whether and I should not even use this word, but when is the correct time to place Al.

I told him that we had to go to the grocery store. I was out of my two most important items on the food list, coffee and eggs. Thanks to some advice from you, I decided to do something I had not done before. Instead of treating Al like my sick brother, I used the tough love of raising a small child. I told him that if he caused me any grief at all, other than the Parkinson’s side effects, he was in big, big trouble as soon as we got home, and I hit the table with the fly swatter to show my words were gold. When he heard the smack between the table and swatter, he made no words at all during the grocery shopping.

I hated treating him more like a child instead of an adult male, but somewhere in there, the child in  him listened, and for today, it worked. Each of you tell me to take one day at a time, and so I did. I made it through today with the help of all of you, my friend near by, the emails, comments and phone calls. Tonight is better, and I will not look to tomorrow yet.

Thank you to all!