The Book of Me – Prompt 9 : Halloween

(* This is from last week’s The Book of Me prompt. Trying to play catch up and get to blogging about other things soon. I’ve been adjusting and life’s just been busy the past few weeks…our daughter came back home for a bit and one of my husband’s daughters moved in to help with him.*)

The prompt for week 9 : Halloween
Have you ever participated in a Halloween event?
When was it?
Where was it?
What did you dress as?
Trick or treat?

Once my mama took my sister and I to a Halloween event at the movie theater. I don’t remember what the movie was, she often liked horror movies, but I didn’t usually watch scary movies anyway. During the very scary parts I’d cover my ears with my hands and close my eyes. At the movie theater there was a coffin filled with prizes that we dug through with our hands. I don’t remember what I was dressed as, but we did dress up. We got candy too. We’d each get a bag and share, so we could have different types.

My sister and I always dressed up for Halloween, but for some reason I can’t remember any of our costumes at all. I do remember one of mama’s costumes. She always enjoyed Halloween and one year dressed up as a witch, complete with green face and black hat, before we woke up. She scared us really good.

Some years we’d go to the Halloween Fair at the school. It was fun and there were plenty of games to play. The only bad thing was my taste in candy. It seemed every year for several years in a row, I would lose a tooth to a Sugar Daddy or Sugar Babies, those very sweet sticky molasses type candies. Thankfully the teeth I lost were ones heading that way already, none of my permanent teeth.

Besides those types of Halloween fun, My sister and I were not allowed to go trick-or-treating. Our mother worked on the police force for a while and had seen too many dangerous things like people putting razor blades in apples and drugs in candy, so she considered it unsafe for us. I don’t remember really feeling as if I missed out by not going trick-or-treating. I just remember fun as a family.

The Book of Me – Prompt 3 : Describe Your Physical Self

I’m a little late posting this as the new prompt for The Book of Me is due to come out tomorrow, but here it is anyway. If you’re new to this blog and not heard about The Book of Me, then you can read my last post to find out more. I’ve been enjoying the prompts. Maybe you’ll give them a try.

This weeks prompt is:
Describe your physical self:
Your size – clothes size
Scars
Eye colour
Draw your hands
Finger Prints

I’ve always been very self conscious and shy, so this was not an easy prompt. Like age, my size is another thing I’ll keep to myself. Suffice it to say, I’m size “not perfect”, but reasonably healthy. I don’t believe in diets. I try to eat healthier, but love to savor food. I love doing yoga in my living room.

I’m about 5’8” with fair freckled skin. I have long dark brown, almost black, hair that’s usually wavy to curly. My eyes are hazel green and brown, one of my few features I really like. There are normally always a pair of dangly French hook earrings in my ears. I feel naked without them.

My fingernails and toenails are most often painted in a matching color of pink. I have many shades. It’s my happy place, like chocolate, magically makes all problems seem a little easier to handle. About as wild as I’ve ever gotten with nail polish is to paint them a sparkly scarlet red for a party. No blues or greens for me.

My Hand

My Hand

Now for scars and birthmarks. There is an upside down teardrop shaped scar on the finger beside my thumb. I consider it a reminder not to lose my temper, which I don’t do often anyway. I was angrily shoving things in the fridge and a glass drink jug fell on the floor shattering into pieces. I cut my finger while picking up the pieces with my bare hands. My birthmark is a light brown oval near my elbow.

This is pretty much what I look like. I will add I am not a t-shirt or sneaker gal. I prefer running around barefoot and wearing “cute” shoes if I have to wear shoes. I so don’t like wearing shoes and love going barefoot that I’ve actually forgot my shoes at a friend’s house once and forgot to wear them to town once.

(**Going to try to post something other than The Book of Me soon. Just finished reading two books and submitting some of my writing.**) 🙂

The Book of Me – Prompt 1: Who am I?

The Book of Me, Written by You is a series of weekly writing prompts to embark on a journal of self discovery, which was created by Julie Goucher at Angler’s Rest. I just found out about it today when I read a post about it by Vikki over at The View Outside blog. I went right away and signed up. Today is the first day of it! 🙂

I’ve had a lot of time on my hands for contemplation, so this sounds right up my alley. I don’t know that I’ll share everything I write, but I’ll share at least some of it. Today’s prompt was : “Who am I?” and it was supposed to be asked 20 times. Here’s my list. It led to a more detailed version of this, but I’m weighing sharing it or not.

  1. I am Sabrina.
  2. I am a strong woman in a line of strong women.
  3. I am a daughter, mother, wife, sister, aunt, granddaughter, and sister-in-law.
  4. I am a caregiver to my husband.
  5. I am a nurse.
  6. I am a crochet fanatic.
  7. I am a creative crafty person.
  8. I am a cook, who loves to dabble with recipes.
  9. I am a budding herbalist and aromatherapist.
  10. I am a reader, reading endlessly at times.
  11. I am a poet and writer.
  12. I am a lover of bluegrass and country music.
  13. I am a barefoot country girl.
  14. I am a homesteader.
  15. I am a romantic and passionate being.
  16. I am a dreamer, who’s temporarily lost the way to dream.
  17. I am a believer with mustard seed size faith right now, but it’s there.
  18. I am finding my voice after having lost it for years.
  19. I am an unfinished being.
  20. I am myself.

“Unlocking the Words”

* This was a piece inspired by one of the prompts on Inspiration Monday over at the blog Be Kind Rewrite.  The prompt I partook of was — “used words”.  Pop over and get inspired to write something.*

Skeleton Keys IMG_0774

Skeleton Keys IMG_0774 (Photo credit: stevendepolo)

Rosemary sat cross legged on her bed and swept her long brown hair behind her.  She placed a pillow in her lap, then opened her journal upon it.  She turned to a blank page and began writing.  Writing had become one of her most treasured past times.

Rather than speak, she used words written on paper to express herself.  Of course, she dared not let anyone read the words.  She only wrote when she was sure no one was around.  The words were hers and she finally had power over her words.  She had a secret hiding place for her journals, so no one would be able to read her words.

She had tired of talking long ago.  It had been a couple of years since her lips had uttered words aloud.  Being condemned every time you open your mouth can have that effect.  Her husband had even told her once she could have opinions as long as she didn’t express them.  Of course, he had lightly said he was joking, but she knew him.  She got so used to swallowing her words, she just stopped talking one day.

No one, including her mother, had been able to get her to talk again.  Speaking simply hurt her heart too much.  She had felt sure no one truly listened to her anyway and her spoken words had always failed to protect her.  The words just ceased to flow as they had no purpose.

The door to her room opened silently and in strode a tall man.  He was dressed in faded jeans, long sleeve buttoned down shirt, and cowboy hat.  She knew he was there by the sound of his boots on the wooden floor.  She remembered the sound.  She stopped writing and looked up with a smile on her face.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he took his hat off and somberly said, “I’m sorry, he’s passed.”  Tears silently began to fall from her eyes.  He embraced her and she cried more.  She cried not only for his passing, which she hoped would give him peace he had never had on earth.  She cried as well, or maybe more so, because she was free.  The man stood and turned to leave.  A single plea escaped her lips, “Stay”.

“Getting Out of the Cold”

* This was a piece inspired by one of the prompts on Inspiration Monday over at the blog Be Kind Rewrite.  Pop over and get inspired to write something.*

It was a cold day.  She was glad she had thrown on a sweater before rushing out of the house.  It was the last thing she grabbed before slamming the door behind her.  She kept walking and rapidly her legs took her to her favorite spot.  She liked the park this time of year.  There was no one around.  It was beautiful with the wide array of brightly colored leaves all on the ground.

She sat on a swing and began lightly rocking herself back and forth.  Her tears began to fall.  She dabbed at her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater, hoping to stop the inevitable flow.  How did she wind up in this mess?  She tried so hard and wanted so little out of life.  The more she thought, the harder her tears flowed.  She just wanted something to be simple in life.

She thought of the close family and friends she knew.  Most of them all had lives riddled with relationship disasters.  There were divorces, deaths of spouses, and anybody left together was miserable.  Most of the women she knew were in abusive relationships.  Why was love this hard?  Her fingers gently pressed her cheek.  It was still a little sore.  She knew later he would apologize, but how long would it last this time?

“I can’t stand the cold any longer”, she suddenly said aloud.  She jumped up from the swing and walked towards her car.  It wasn’t just a need for physical warmth, but it was a need for the emotional warmth from another person she craved.  She just wanted someone to be nice.  A little kindness could go a long way.  It was something she hadn’t had for quite some time.

She didn’t know where she would go or what it would take, but she knew things couldn’t continue to be the same.  She was tired of the cold.  She didn’t want the warmth in her heart to turn as cold as the day.  She needed and deserved love.  She lightly rubbed her belly.  It wasn’t just herself she needed to make life better for anymore.

Swinging

Swinging (Photo credit: clvrmnky)