Most people say you should be happy when you are married and have children. And God’s a witness — I do believe it’s an honor to have all that.

But the saying goes — “You cannot have it all”, and we all have been struggling with proving the opposite.

The change of our lives, and by “our” I mean all people, came so suddenly, that we didn’t have time to adjust.
Now it’s a notion — ADJUST.
Adjust to the changes, adjust to life, adjust to living locked down, adjust to sickness, adjust to losing people, adjust, adjust, adjust, adjust…it’s a non-stop thing.

With a family it’s different, first, we all were locked and we felt safe because we are together and together we can go through this, then goes the hard period, where we are looking for the statistics and praying for people who are sick, then as time passed we start doing something — that is useful, that is normal, we talk with people via cameras, we work with our cameras on, we create new people, as this is quarantine and you know…

Then we have breakdowns because you know…

The family — vast notion, when the space is small, when each and everyone has their own duties and obligations now is a time for a fight, as nerves and duties are putting the weight on the shoulders.
Children, dogs, relationships, work, home, relatives, school, deadlines…
The LIFE kicks in.
And instead of appreciation of everything; we’ve got - a life, that gets in our way. Yum.
Meditation? — No time!
Play with kids? — No time — job, school!
Change a job? — No time, money, you are lucky to have it.
Get creative? — No time, you should work, and also don't forget about kids! Also, you should feed them all of them, even yourself, and your house should be clean because you know…

So instead of time, we have none.

Madness, desperation, pain, tears, and yeah no time.

I just wanted to say it out loud, I think I’m not the one out there. Sorry if it somehow hurt your feelings.

Multimillionaire was walking toward his car smiling. His brisk and radiant face caught the brightest rays of the sun.
If you could ever “wear” Luck — you would probably feel like him.
Exhausted woman was crossing the street, she turned her head in all directions so that some car wouldn’t hit her.
If you could ever “wear” depression — you would probably feel like her that day.

Decent light of a singly ray caught her grey face, she sipped that light a bit and warmth got its way into her heart. She felt warmth and took off her gloves.
Then a car “almost” hit her, she just had a second to jump out of its.
A van pulled over and several heavy guys were shoving the multimillionaire down at the van.
Woman felt powerful after the warmth hit her — she screamed for help.
Guys got her too. Hood over the face and then emptiness.
If you could ever “wear” fear — you would probably feel like them that minute.

They woke up in a cage.

Dark vast space. None of them cared for each other at all, rather blaming and hating. Suddenly they identified a third subject in the cage — a boy.
Boy turned out to be an orphan, who with no logical reason to sit there with them.

Locked up, scared, they stare into one another, down at the darkness. Hollow space got the single drop fell on the damp floor echoing around.
More screaming, swearing, praying … time went on.

Logic? Karma? Destiny? Trick?

And most important questions “Why?”
And of course “What?”

Waiting…period that has no timeframe except the individual perception of existence. People who were measured by the situation beyond understanding and hypothesis.

Presumption of innocence.

Then talking, that all what’s left. Many hours of sore throat because of the talking.
Three individuals with their own experience, three different types of life.

“I don’t believe in life at all”, said the boy, “Life taught me well, we exist no longer”.

“I’m so tired”, said a woman, “and I missed my daughter. I left her to earn money, so that she could learn and live good”.

“Yeah, sounds familiar”, said the boy, “Maybe one day you will see her”.

“I loved my life”, said a man, “every single piece of it, every single day, minute, breath, I loved it. I do not deserve to loose any more time here”.

“Wow, perfect speech, now go and buy me couple of parents won’t you?”, said the boy.

“I don’t even care what you say”, said a man, “I don’t care for any of you”.

“Maybe you should”, said a woman.

“…what a shame,” said a man quietly, “what a shame….what a shame, what a shame… I wish I wasn’t…”, rather to himself he murmured.

“Then maybe”, with a hiss of a snake said the woman, “you are here for a reason … dad, maybe there is always a story behind every single deed”

“Yeah, I got that since I saw you on that damn street”, answered a man quietly, “I knew…and i thought then, what a good day to avoid you the second time”, he said.
“Well then you probably should sit here forever, shouldn’t you?”
“Thanks to you I guess” he answered.

A flashlight turned on.

“Subscribe to my channel”, said the boy holding the phone over his head, “to see content like this…”

And so they sit in the cage.

******************

Walk of Fame was originally published in Vagabond Voices on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Who was so anchoring
I could only care,
I got to see him
Following him back
and listen.
I bragged to everyone I care
and it was forever.
****

Challenge in blackout poetry, I opened the book on the first page that got my fingers and took out the words that I liked to create a poem. That was interesting. Thank you Trisha Traughber .
Right now I’m reading “The city of girls” by Elizabeth Gilbert so I found those word right in the book =)

Anchor Away was originally published in Vagabond Voices on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

The thing is: Sofi noticed that every night before before her sleep, the stars always shine a bit brighter, as if someone intentionally dust them.

Sofi lived with her grandmother always missing her parents. They work hard all over the world, and never got a chance to spent a whole year with her.
Of course, they decided for a stability to live her with the grandmother, cherry and warm woman who knew exactly how to take care of her.
Not that Sofi mind, indeed grandma was awesome…but, she was not them.

So…as a usage she spent couple of hours looking into the window watching the stars, and secretly talking to her parents, she thought that no matter where they are, they could always hear her, as long as she talked to the stars.

Far across the Globe mum and dad were looking at the stars thinking of their daughter. Both of them missed her so much. At that particular year it was the last time they travel, and finally were about to spent their time with Sofi, their little girl.

So that she could hear them and know they are missing her, every night they dust the stars.

“Home is where your heart is” goes the saying, and I left mine years ago.
My family and I stayed in “The House” for nearly 400 years.
The spirits of our past literary lived in the walls of “Home”.
The Souls of the relatives walked among the rooms, always…knowing “what is best for you” or even what underwear you’re in.

Their advices, harsh and old-fashioned eventually never ended up heard by us, but sometimes they were persuasive and proved their points, sometimes, we…as a family had to obey.

I was…well, still is a white crow in the family, there were some of us that way birthed among the centuries of course, and every single of us tried to break the chain of the everlasting family “love”. No one made it fat then the entrance gate.

I made it. The first one, and I’m tremendously proud of it.

I sit on the beach and ocean washes my sore feet, nails are covered in hot white sand, hawaiian waters are meant for this, I guess. My tired skin, weighted of memories and mistakes of the past, bathe in waters of blessed ones, and i look forward to this new beginning.

Now, my whole being knows “the home is where your heart is” and mine is here on the sand — open, bleeding, melting…

HOME was originally published in Vagabond Voices on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Spring has come.

Why do I love it?

For bear blossom.

And Moments… when nude depauperate trees with fresh vehemence and heavy rainfall — burst the life from dreaming soul.

It blooms and spread the wings.

And people, start to flourish along with nature too.

As yet timid rays of hot sun delicately (tender) touches our sleeping soul.

And we blossom.

And rainstorm… well, it sweeps away the dream of long-forgotten winter.

Spring has come. was originally published in Vagabond Voices on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

In small cozy city stood a small house where lived people.
Every day big and small people follow their small schedule.
In their small bags they carried small food and small notepads writing definitely using small pens.

Every evening big and small people returned to their small house, they read a small book over their dinner tables and small-talked to each other over a small teapot time after — big and small people went to bed and started their small day all over again.

In this small house was a small small attic where lived a small small elf.
He never brought a smallest attention toward his existence in this small house. And he always behaved good.

Especially over small holidays.

But I must say that Christmas he loved the most!

So here he is, sitting on his small small bed and thinking using his small head “How to make happy the big big world?”
So he decided to not put the idea in a small small bag, but put a small small presents there.
Actually he put in his small small bag a lot of small small presents to make happy every one, not only small children, but also small adults,
because on Christmas Eve even big big people can believe in small small miracles,
and our famous small small elf
with big big heart
got a big big plan to fulfill.

He sat on a stool and kept staring at the mirror in a small metal box.

He did it every other day when the “normal” life became unbearable.
But just when he opened his box all the colors of the life returned to him.

The taste of life, the purpose, his experience, his actions, his decisions and his mind…Free of all the burden of the world. That day the rims of his eyes radiate with deep grey.

Sometimes he stared at the small rotten mirror for hours, it meant that he was dreaming about a particular day. He lived in his memories, and the only thing noticeable in the mirror became black pupils, that drew attention, the feeling of monster hidden beneath the flesh of a small person in corduroys.

The end of his spine begun to yearn monotonously so he quickly closed the box.

“I can control myself”, he said and exit the room.

In his bad days, he tossed things inside the box- his trophies, and each time he felt the new spinal urge so he blocked it with throwing furniture at the wall but kept calm when he met his own dark brown gaze in the small mirror inside the box.

No furniture left, just bare gray floor, one wooden stool from better times and a table so to calm his nerves he started a new habit — twitching a hair on his bushy eyebrows.

He opened a box, inside he took carefully attached curl of brown hair.
Twitch…
Now he remembered, April 27th, yes…she had blue eyes.
Twitch…
Big bum.
Twitch…
He remembered her loin…
Twitch…
Her dying agony.

Erection came suddenly, he tossed a curl inside the box, where a curl of red hair, a curl of black hair laid peacefully to another phase and left the room, closing his memories with old key in the basement. He hold the door for couple of seconds, luring.

“Dad, what were you doing in a basement again?”

***

Because I usually divide my time: write and conquer (or be creative and write, I don’t know what sounds better), so I have my “own” phase to capture “The Moment” and today was this awkward busy, fuzzy, angry, “I-am-so-late” morning.
To cut it short I was standing near the lake, waiting for my “bus” to arrive and suddenly the time stopped, seriously, bless the movies for teaching us what does it look like.
I was in this amazing still place, soundless, timeless and I started actually SAW things around me.
I love Autumn for its color.
Trees — that remind us the touch of the artistic hand in landscape oil paintings, the festive environment we all are in, yes I used the right word, because of the moment;
kind of, anticipation before something… Big, smell of pumpkin, color of pumpkin everywhere, wool socks, fluffy sweaters, hot chocolate, warm hugs, hot hot coffee, that’s what autumn is for me. And it occurred in a very inappropriate, unwilling moment like a mischievous cold shower flushed over my ungrateful head.

So…what I’m trying to say, is, that sometimes, when you don’t wait for the appropriate moment, it will come to you, and the time will stop, and eventually your heart’s pace will slow down, and you will notice something…

This kiddo came out of a creative journaling challenge lead by Trisha Traughber(you can join in by ).

Light blue, yet, old shutters were sunburned for decades but gave the impression of the calm suburb life, a red wooden door made by one of her cousins who was no longer with us, small comfortable home for one.

She sat on her bed.

For the past year, it was her best friend with the strong shoulder, a safe place where you can come and cry, or share the intimate details of the day. She loved to made her bed every day differently, you can say it was a ritual, sure. However one thing was untouched — her pink pillow, always aiming at the center of the bed, it laid there today as well.
Wearing only a bathrobe she took the urge to get to the first floor, she just heard her dog barking at the neighbors.
– Lucy, come back here, — she desperately yelled at the dog, the latter had problems with sight long ago and ended up usually on the street barking at the lampost and passing neighbors.
– Lucy, — trembling voice on the first floor appeared carrying the lady with it.
The dog returned home aiming at the voice of her mistress. Comfortingly Lucy sat on the porch, emphasizing her demeanor over everything unseen.

Old lady shook her head and cross the hall toward the kitchen. Classic pink, with yellow fronts. At the corner, spider saw the intrusion and willingly left the place for the night.
Old lady pressed her dry hands on the sink as if contemplating the flowers at the garden, but her heart pounded severely, it was the Day.
Then she saw that a milk carton was missing from her fridge, it was time to go for a walk that would ache over her whole body.
She quietly approached the wardrobe and opened the heavy doors, she took only a purple raincoat, quite new, she took her kerchief with flowers and attached it to her head, she changed the bathrobe to the raincoat with silent despair, the ache was all over her, yet she wore a smile of a fighter. She looked at the mirror near the door, nodded to herself and set toward the local store.
Her saw-life-shopping cart squeaked all the way to the store, but the sun covered her from the top, she even made a pause, directing her wrinkled face to it and enjoyed the warmth of the sun-hug, it calmed her and gave the energy to move forward.
She spent 30 minutes picking up “the right” milk and approached the cash desk, the cashier looked at her suspiciously, his eyes showed the notable expression that young people usually give to old ones. The old lady paid with coins, the classic way, the cashier took it with disgust all over his pimpled face and gave the receipt. She thanked him and made all her way back with a squeaky shopping cart to her house, where the dog was waiting for her on the porch.
– Yeah — yeah little girl, — old lady talked to the dog, named Lucy, — one moment, I will make us some breakfast.

The days pass and the years vanished like a sand through her old cranky fingers, yet she was fully aware of all miracles that surrounded us, yes, she was lonely and yes there was no one for her at that moment, but then again days pass and she was there despite the years.