Merely Day By Day

It's Poetry Friday!  Stop by Carol Wilcox's blog:   Carol's Corner for more poetry!   Yesterday and Today The plate rests in her hands; Mom leans against the doorway. Suddenly  I see my grandma sitting in her kitchen the large box she has been waiting for resting near her. She has been saving for a long time, waiting for these dishes, ordered from the Sears Roebuck catalog, to arrive. Mom unknowingly turns the plate in her hands thinking back to the day. Grandma unwraps them one by one, a tear of joy escapes from the grandma that knew what it was like to need. The grandma who lived  through the depression, decades later telling the story of the delight of a slice of bologna given to her by her grandparents.   Mom pauses for a moment lost in the memory of long ago. Grandma unwraps each piece, the grandma who saved foil, the grandma who reused containers, the grandma who carefully portioned meals. She has waited ...

It's Tuesday so stop by  Two Writing Teachers  to join  tonight's link-up and conversation .  There's something about moving from blog to blog to savor the little stories that make us smile.   "Blood is thicker than water, but love is thicker than blood."                 --- Garth Brooks:  Thicker Than Blood On this Veterans' Day we honor the men and women who have served for our country; those people who believed in freedom and helped us to live as we do today.  Of course, behind all of those who served in uniform there are other stories.  Sometimes the story of a hero is beyond the battlefield.  Sometimes the story of a hero is built over years of making a difference in other ways.  This is the story of my grandfather who, not only served his country, but taught us all what it means to live to make a difference. Many years ago my grandma, a widow with two small boys, married this man. ...

It's Poetry Friday!  Stop by Random Noodling where Diane Mayr hosts today's event. The Gift of an Hour They say I was given an extra hour to sleep, but who wants to waste precious time? I considered all I could do with an extra hour just given as a gift. An extra hour might be: another quiet cup of coffee, or maybe a little more time wrapped inside a book. Sixty minutes for free to put my feet up and gaze at the stars floating above our world. Three thousand six hundred seconds tap tapping words, shaping them into something, molding and sculpting. Now it occurs to me the hour has come and gone. Yet, I'm not sure I was able to savor it. I rise and look at my clock. What was nine a.m. is now eight. I rub my eyes wondering how I slept away this precious gift. © Cathy L. Mere, 2014

It's Tuesday so stop by  Two Writing Teachers  to join  tonight's link-up and conversation .  There's something about moving from blog to blog to savor the little stories that make us smile.   Dorotha Mae Stough Millikan 1894-1976 My great grandmother would have been 25 years old when women first obtained the right to vote.  I like to imagine what it must have been like to vote for the first time. On Sunday, I took my youngest daughter to our county board of elections office to vote before returning to college.  She had come home to visit for the second time since the semester began.  She had realized it might be possible to vote before leaving.  We filled the car more winter clothing, a few meals-to-go, and other items she might need in the coming weeks.  We then headed to the polling location. This was her first time to vote, and she was quite excited.  She had studied the ballot.  She had looked up information on...