June 8, 2010

Prompt: Sometimes we find a way to say what cannot be said.

* * *

Sometimes we find a way to say what cannot be said. There are so many things in my head that cannot be said, cannot be set free. My answer to this problem was to find a character who can say all those secret things. She became the one who was abused, not me. In my fiction world everyone is happy, unlike my world where everything is a wrong. I live under an umbrella of depression, hide behind fake smiles. I run from my emotions. |---Heather Poultney, RBWG member

* * *

Sometimes we find a way to say what cannot be said. All day I had been agonizing over how to tell my 12 year old son that last night his father and I had decided NOT to send him to the summer baseball camp he had hoped to attend in July, but rather to a young children’s Obesity Clinic on a farm in Arizona. Drew was bordering on obese and beginning to have health issues with high blood sugar, difficulty breathing, and high cholesterol. Because of his weight he was not able to make any of the middle school’s sports’ teams this past year and, so, was elated when his counselor told him about the baseball camp where no child was turned down if there were still spaces available. Drew had applied early and been accepted weeks ago. He had even started saving part of his allowance and earning money doing odd jobs to help us pay for the camp and to have some spending money when he went.

When I saw Drew getting off the school bus at the end of our street I gathered my thoughts and my courage, ready to get this difficult task done when he arrived home this very afternoon. But the body language Drew displayed gave me pause. So I waited, holding my little speech inside, until he began to speak. “Mom”, he said hesitantly, I don’t think I should go to that baseball camp. Look at me! I am the fattest kid in my class. Everyone will laugh at me when I try to run or play my position.” I was speechless. “Mr. Ryan (Drew’s favorite teacher) thinks I should use this summer to get healthy and lose this baby fat. He gave me a whole plan designed just for young teenagers showing what to eat, how to exercise, and how to set realistic goals. He also said there is a place in Arizona that works miracles with kids my age. I guess that would be too expensive so I guess I’ll try to do it here on my own. Would you help me, Mom?” My heart seemed to sigh with relief. What an incredible happenstance! “Oh, Drew, good for you” I fairly sang. Of course, your dad and I will both help you. And maybe we can even find a way to get you to the Arizona clinic.”
--Toni Worsham, RBWG member

* * *

Sometimes we find a way to say what cannot be said; most times we find a way to sully silence with the wrong consolation. We tell the distraught that "everything happens for a reason." We mumble to someone who knows better that their mother is, right this moment, "with God, looking down on us." "It'll be OK," we say, "Whatever doesn't kill us makes us stronger." I grew up in a house of words and have lived glibly all my life --and I know well the advantages of being able to charm the proverbial pot of gold from the Leprechaun -- but increasingly, as I get older, I look for the gift of silence and rely, more and more, upon it. When there's nothing you can say, it turns out, that's just what's appropriate.
--Tom Hoyer, RBWG member

* * *

The room was darkened with drapes drawn as if the setting sun would have bothered anyone’s eyes. She heard the muffled sobs of her aunts as they huddled in corners, rocking their bodies for comfort against their loss. Her mother approached and taking Mary's tiny hand in hers, gently guided her towards the bed.

"Don't worry honey," she said, "you don't have to be afraid. Grammy is sleeping now".

"I'm not afraid mommy" Mary replied.

Looking towards the bed, Mary moved away from her mother and climbed onto the blanket. Leaning towards her grandmothers ear, she whispered gently, "I will be ok now Grammy. Just like you told me. I know you're sleeping with God now so you'll be safe. And I know God isn't gonna let you hurt anymore".

With that the room quieted. Mary's aunts looked at the tiny figure crouched by their mothers' ear.

Smiling softly to her daughter, Mary's mother said, "Even from tiny voices sometimes we find a way to say what cannot be said".
--Nancy Janssen RBWG member

* * *

The image in the mirror was mine, but it was like a brother conversing with me.

“When we’re together in the same space, I am tongue tied. My every attempt to tell her how I really feel is strangled by the unrelenting flow of emotions battling to get out,” I lamented.

My brother image made a stroke with the razor, rinsed it, and seemed to contemplate its smooth lines. He made an identical stroke on the other side of his/our face, and from the corner of his scrunched up mouth, he said, “Sounds like love, beer commercial style.”

I picked up where he left off, sliding the razor carefully above our lips and below them across the chin. “Commercials? Maybe I should change cologne when we are finished. Be like the hip black guy on the horse.”

The shave done, he wiped off the excess foam with a hand towel and scowled. I thought we were unhappy with the shave until he said, “She wouldn’t be that superficial, although she would admire your fitness, if we were fit.”

I slipped into Sinatra for a moment – “Unrequited love’s a bore, and I’ve got it pretty bad.”

He shrugged. “What’s a guy to do?”

“Exactly. Heart of the problem,” I said with a nod.

He sucked on our upper lip in a moment of thought. I saw our eyes brighten as we stared deeply into each other’s, our foreheads touching on the surface of the mirror. “Well, sometimes we find a way to say what cannot be said,” he suggested. “Maybe it’s an incidental touch that sets off a spark or body language that communicates our desire discreetly or even eye contact like ours.”

I broke off, rinsing my face with cold water. I trembled, not because of the cold water or my nakedness, but with the sheer terror of confronting her even indirectly.
--Jim Van Loozen, RBWG member




June 8, 2010 Prompt: Sometimes we find a way to say what cannot be said. * * * Sometimes we find a way to say what cannot be said. There are so many things in my head that cannot be said, cannot be set free. My answer to this problem was to find a character who can say all those secret things. She became the one who was abused, not me. In my fiction world everyone is happy, unlike my world where everything is a wrong. I live under an umbrella of depression, hide behind fake smiles. I run from my emotions. \|---Heather Poultney, RBWG member * * * Sometimes we find a way to say what cannot be said. All day I had been agonizing over how to tell my 12 year old son that last night his father and I had decided NOT to send him to the summer baseball camp he had hoped to attend in July, but rather to a young children’s Obesity Clinic on a farm in Arizona. Drew was bordering on obese and beginning to have health issues with high blood sugar, difficulty breathing, and high cholesterol. Because of his weight he was not able to make any of the middle school’s sports’ teams this past year and, so, was elated when his counselor told him about the baseball camp where no child was turned down if there were still spaces available. Drew had applied early and been accepted weeks ago. He had even started saving part of his allowance and earning money doing odd jobs to help us pay for the camp and to have some spending money when he went. When I saw Drew getting off the school bus at the end of our street I gathered my thoughts and my courage, ready to get this difficult task done when he arrived home this very afternoon. But the body language Drew displayed gave me pause. So I waited, holding my little speech inside, until he began to speak. “Mom”, he said hesitantly, I don’t think I should go to that baseball camp. Look at me! I am the fattest kid in my class. Everyone will laugh at me when I try to run or play my position.” I was speechless. “Mr. Ryan (Drew’s favorite teacher) thinks I should use this summer to get healthy and lose this baby fat. He gave me a whole plan designed just for young teenagers showing what to eat, how to exercise, and how to set realistic goals. He also said there is a place in Arizona that works miracles with kids my age. I guess that would be too expensive so I guess I’ll try to do it here on my own. Would you help me, Mom?” My heart seemed to sigh with relief. What an incredible happenstance! “Oh, Drew, good for you” I fairly sang. Of course, your dad and I will both help you. And maybe we can even find a way to get you to the Arizona clinic.” --Toni Worsham, RBWG member * * * Sometimes we find a way to say what cannot be said; most times we find a way to sully silence with the wrong consolation. We tell the distraught that "everything happens for a reason." We mumble to someone who knows better that their mother is, right this moment, "with God, looking down on us." "It'll be OK," we say, "Whatever doesn't kill us makes us stronger." I grew up in a house of words and have lived glibly all my life --and I know well the advantages of being able to charm the proverbial pot of gold from the Leprechaun -- but increasingly, as I get older, I look for the gift of silence and rely, more and more, upon it. When there's nothing you can say, it turns out, that's just what's appropriate. --Tom Hoyer, RBWG member * * * The room was darkened with drapes drawn as if the setting sun would have bothered anyone’s eyes. She heard the muffled sobs of her aunts as they huddled in corners, rocking their bodies for comfort against their loss. Her mother approached and taking Mary's tiny hand in hers, gently guided her towards the bed. "Don't worry honey," she said, "you don't have to be afraid. Grammy is sleeping now". "I'm not afraid mommy" Mary replied. Looking towards the bed, Mary moved away from her mother and climbed onto the blanket. Leaning towards her grandmothers ear, she whispered gently, "I will be ok now Grammy. Just like you told me. I know you're sleeping with God now so you'll be safe. And I know God isn't gonna let you hurt anymore". With that the room quieted. Mary's aunts looked at the tiny figure crouched by their mothers' ear. Smiling softly to her daughter, Mary's mother said, "Even from tiny voices sometimes we find a way to say what cannot be said". --Nancy Janssen RBWG member * * * The image in the mirror was mine, but it was like a brother conversing with me. “When we’re together in the same space, I am tongue tied. My every attempt to tell her how I really feel is strangled by the unrelenting flow of emotions battling to get out,” I lamented. My brother image made a stroke with the razor, rinsed it, and seemed to contemplate its smooth lines. He made an identical stroke on the other side of his/our face, and from the corner of his scrunched up mouth, he said, “Sounds like love, beer commercial style.” I picked up where he left off, sliding the razor carefully above our lips and below them across the chin. “Commercials? Maybe I should change cologne when we are finished. Be like the hip black guy on the horse.” The shave done, he wiped off the excess foam with a hand towel and scowled. I thought we were unhappy with the shave until he said, “She wouldn’t be that superficial, although she would admire your fitness, if we were fit.” I slipped into Sinatra for a moment – “Unrequited love’s a bore, and I’ve got it pretty bad.” He shrugged. “What’s a guy to do?” “Exactly. Heart of the problem,” I said with a nod. He sucked on our upper lip in a moment of thought. I saw our eyes brighten as we stared deeply into each other’s, our foreheads touching on the surface of the mirror. “Well, sometimes we find a way to say what cannot be said,” he suggested. “Maybe it’s an incidental touch that sets off a spark or body language that communicates our desire discreetly or even eye contact like ours.” I broke off, rinsing my face with cold water. I trembled, not because of the cold water or my nakedness, but with the sheer terror of confronting her even indirectly. --Jim Van Loozen, RBWG member * * * Back to the Prompt Page
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