Tag Growing up

Last Year

Chel Owens 25 Comments

Daniel could reach the top of the doorway now. He’d always wanted to -ever since watching Dad swing one big, strong, long arm up and smack it in passing. Daniel watched that arm throughout his life, wondering at his dad’s strength and size.

Up until last year, that is. Up until the cancer.

“I did it today, Dad,” he whispered.

“What, Danny?” His mom raised her eyes from Dad’s headstone and fixed Daniel with a sad, confused gaze.

“Nothin,'” Daniel muttered, looking down. He wondered how long it’d be before he could smack the doorway without cheating. Without jumping.

©2021 Chel Owens

Image by MisersMillions from Pixabay

In response to Carrot Ranch‘s prompt this week:

March 18, 2021, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story that takes place a year later. It can be any year. Explore the past year or another significant passing of time to a character. Go where the prompt leads!

Respond by March 23, 2021. Use the comment section [on the site] to share, read, and be social. You may leave a link, pingback, or story in the comments. If you want to be published in the weekly collection, please use the form.  Rules & Guidelines.

The Sweetest Interlude

Chel Owens 26 Comments

She felt him: fluttering rolls across her belly, monitor heartbeats strong and loud. What will you be like? she wondered, pausing life to grow another.

She chased him: rolling, crawling, walking, running; breaking, laughing, climbing high. When will you slow down? she wondered, curtailing career to care for child.

She watched him: growing taller, speaking deeper; leaving parents for teenage crowds. When will you grow up? she wondered, forgoing sleep for curfew calls.

She hugged him: leaving nest to start his own; walking tall beside his wife. When will you come back? she wondered, looking round at what remained.

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Raised and cared for Carrot Ranch‘s writing prompt: an interlude.

September 19, 2019, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about an interlude. It can be a pause between two key moments, the pause between acts in a play, an intermission, or a temporary amusement Go where the prompt leads you!

Respond by September 24, 2019. Use the comment section below to share, read, and be social. You may leave a link, pingback, or story in the comments. If you want to be published in the weekly collection, please use the form.  Rules & Guidelines.

 

Photo Credit: Katrina Knapp

 

©2019 Chelsea Owens

Do You Believe in Magic?

Chel Owens 3 Comments

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Here, he sits. The screen reflects his fat fingers, his glasses, his balding head.
Between lines of numbered reports, his memory sees small hands, perfect sight, full hair. Laughter.

There, she pauses. Against the mopped floor rest her orthopedic shoes, her sore cankles, her ample midsection.
Mundane mind-wanderings recall barefoot summers, skinny legs, an inverted belly button. Happiness.

Where, do we stand? Honest bathroom mirrors capture our eye lines, our neck bulges, our long wrinkly faces.
Fleeting cognizance remembers smooth skin, thin necks, unblemished features. Smiles.

Fairy dust? Hardly. Evaporating imagination pulls us ever farther from Never-Neverland.

 

Carrot Ranch Literary Society Prompt

Hand Me Down

Chel Owens

Find me; fold me;
Box me away.
I’ve shrunk; he’s grown
-Who’s to say?

Write that; tape that;
Label that box.
I’ll tell; you’ll read
Of suits and socks.

Fill this; close this;
Set this there.
I’m stored; I’m saved
For another wear?

Hand me down; Land me down;
Gift me once more.
Open me; unfold these
Wear till I’m wore.

Lifecycle

Chel Owens

As a child, I was cripplingly shy. I spoke barely audibly, hated to look people in the eye, and cried at social stresses.

Then, I started to grow and mature. During this stage of metamorphosis, which usually takes from two weeks to several months, the larval tissues completely break down and reorganize. The outlines of adult features—the wings, eyes, tongue, antennae, and body segments—can be seen on the surface of the pupal skin.

When fully formed, the pupal case splits and the butterfly emerges. The butterfly first expels its meconium, metabolic waste products that have accumulated during the pupal stage. It then expands its shriveled wings—by pumping them full of blood—before flying off.

What? Sorry; I dozed off and let some autofill site finish this post. I’d better get off to bed. Goodnight, everyone!

Metamorphic

Chel Owens

When a person makes a child, there is at least a small part of the father and the mother in him. These pieces are not always the best ones, but I love how they suddenly sparkle in the light of conversation or in that left-side dimple smile.

I love talking to an aunt with the same laugh as her brother and the same nervous smile as her sisters. I enjoy seeing a child’s expressions -then, meeting her parents and noting that same crinkle at the corner of the eyes or similar hand gestures when outlining a point.

We’re like a stone formed from the pressures of life, with bits of our ancestors glinting here and there. That is our makeup, and our formation overall depends on the loving people who raise us, interact with us, and marry us.