20 Lines A Day

A Community of Writers and Photographers


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20 Lines a Day..Thanksgiving Photo Challenge

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I am thankful for the new day…timzauto

Happy Thanksgiving to all…

Thanksgiving day is filled with family and friends , I know we are also busy with events , football, eating ..lol and socializing …I would like to challenge you all to just one picture that describes what you are thankful for….so thruout today just snap one picture and post , maybe we all can see the different ways everyone is thankful for….tag your posts with TGphotochallenge so we can check your pics and enjoy your way of being thankful…Thanks for posting and lets get snapping those photos


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HAPPY THANKSGIVING

Happy Thanks giving to all..


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Certain Things

A shell, a piece of bone, a tumbleweed,
some driftwood, Indian beads, a little stone…
these things hold memories, and how I need

them. Grandchildren learned names of shells with speed
from my collection. Don’t forget pinecone
to add to shell and bone and tumbleweed.

My mother cooked Thanksgiving once to feed
us in the pinewoods. Warm that year, sun shone.
These things hold memories. O, how I need

remembrance of the driftwood she would plead
with us to bring up from the beach. Windblown,
a shell, a piece of bone, a tumbleweed

arrived onshore. And then we would impede
their further travels, as our mom was prone
to loving things of nature. They, her need,

defined her as might the Apostles’ Creed.
Each lovely signature stood all alone
in her home, shell and bone and tumbleweed.
I understand the memories I need.

(a villanelle)


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Remembering

My mother used to tell my brother and me that she’d played shortstop for the Brooklyn Dodgers. I never questioned that. You would have to have known her. She was so convincing. This became family lore, and eventually she told the story that she named me Maggie because “it has two Gs in it and they stand for gullible, gullible.

We had many a laugh over this throughout the years. When she was 64 and first became ill, she kept her sense of humor through the six years of her illness and dying. Her mind remained sharp.

She died at the too-young age of 70, and we carried out her wishes, to scatter her ashes at the beach. We did this on her November birthday which, that year, was Thanksgiving. I know I was putting it off. Finally our son-in-law said, “If you want to do this today we should get going because soon it will be dark.” So after our daughter, her new husband, our son and his girlfriend, my in-laws, and my husband and I had had our dinner, we headed out to the beach. I carried that black box in my mittened hands.

My stomach churned. I didn’t know what her remains would look like. Yes, I had that fear of the unknown. But when I opened it, it was all grey ash. That’s it. I was wearing a purple down jacket. I whooshed those ashes to the wind, and some of them got on my jacket. I loved that. And I felt good that we were doing as she desired.

Five months earlier, after the visitation at the funeral home, my brother, his wife, our children, and my husband and I stood in the parking lot with blue and green balloons. Blue and green were her favorite colors so there was no question as to what colors to get. Each balloon was on a long ribbon, and attached was a little white card. We decided we were going to write messages on those cards before releasing them heavenward.

Well, if you’ve read my writings you know that I often tend to be wordy, and I was trying mightily to write every possible significant thing I could think of on that little card. I was writing so small, and up the sides of the card. It was as if I couldn’t get it all said. Fortunately, my mom and I had said everything to each other while she was still alive.

Finally everyone was done. At the last minute I said, “Would anyone mind if we read what we wrote?”

And my brother said, “No. You go first.” He must have known that it would have been the longest. Of course he was right. Then the others read theirs. My brother read last. Its simplicity and poignancy touches me still:

Shortstop for the Brooklyn Dodgers.


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December?

A Silly December Poem

It’s 60 today and the sun’s shining bright.
I guess that the seasons just can’t get it right.
A couple of flakes fell on Thanksgiving Day,
but autumn is lingering. Skies are not gray.

I wonder why Earth has its story mixed up.
The weather’s been weird, like cake in a cup.
So what of December? Where’s snow and the cold?
It might come like a lamb, not blatant or bold.


Weekly Photo Challenge: Thankful

Originally posted on Grandmother Musings:

Even though Thanksgiving is now a memory, I am still thankful for the turkeys that gave of themselves so that my family and I could have a superb meal.  It wouldn’t be a holiday without them!  

©Grandmother Musings 2012-2013.

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Jamie Nowinski – Grandmother Wisdom/Grandmother Musings with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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