An Eighth Shot of Espresso: Coffee and Creativity on Mum's Third Shift

Secrets don't tend to hide forever they will be discovered whether you like it or not sometimes you stumble over it without expecting to see or they rip the band aid and tell you with no frills here is what happens this is what to expect either way to be blindsided in the name of protection makes it all a moot point when it hits you like a brick wall

jump into trouble  in a way  that surprises no one look before you leap and damn the consequences the first one in and the last one out a protector of all and beloved by many with a fearlessness that strikes terror in your enemies  and awe in your allies. But I roll my eyes  and follow  while I carry your shield. for someone has  to save you  from yourself.

transcribe mystic writing  onto stone tablets  such complicated pictures and intricate descriptions hammer and chisel by the light of a candle a snapshot of real life in a mystic age ten centuries later  we puzzle over the words  but little do we know this so-called hymn  to the Gods  is a Sumerian woman's  complaint  about her mother in law.

I told him that I was going out to finish my Christmas shopping. I got a long heated rant of how he doesn't like crowds or people the chaos, the headache the parking roulette crazy drivers long lines sullen shopkeepers canned music artificial snow and on and on and on Long gone are the days of window shopping and small stores and groups of carolers smiling children hot cocoa the festive atmosphere goodwill towards men --I just stood there for a moment and I looked him  in the eye and I said: "I know... that's why I didn't ask you to come along."

Wrapping paper gift boxes for: Lego sets wooden models fluffy blankets stuffed animals warm slippers a skateboard markers and construction paper glass ornaments illustrated Bible Grinch-shaped cookies generic gift cards reindeer poop marshmallows raisin coal And for the trip to family: neck pillows shot glasses bottles of sake'

Broom in hand the bristles whisper against the floor as they all go about their evening as usual my husband brought a cake but I sweep and sweep as he sits at his computer and watches YouTube with the headphones on: Unhappy birthday to me I guess It's nothing special.

Light is peaceful stasis  Dark is restless activity  As the sun goes down  a new world wakes  Let the black velvet  surround and comfort you  Shadows seem unfamiliar only until you get to know them. The righteous go to sleep the secret finally open their eyes. History digs deep while revelry stays shallow. Angels bask in the glory the hedge witch heals behind the curtain. The nightingale sings its song  the owl watches intently  We the quiet hum our hymns the vibrate throughout the land. Stars are like mother's jewelry  Night is like a lullaby

The crickets  the owl  and the nightingale  all raise their voices  as the sun goes down  and the moon shows its face  the bullfrog provides the bass the wolf sings in the tenor the singers may not know each other but somehow their song becomes one the disparate voices find a common melody a harmony of night singing  that lasts until dawn

So it's come to this: the rosy blush of  the honeymoon  gives way to  the glaze of real life  The excitement is over  as the mundane settles thickly  over your shoulders Now that the fuss is all done the cake is cut the guests have gone home the gifts unwrapped the dress in the closet you realize that  this impulsive decision  wasn't the right one at all.

Chilled to the bone  fog heavy in the streets  why would one  go for a little stroll  and invite terror  into their lives? It is easy to judge the unfortunate who might not  have a choice. A livelihood to fund survival A house made of cobblestone streets. No one expects it  to happen to them  and it makes  a sensational story  for others.

The snow lies thick on the path up the hill but the windows shine like a beacon and the light spills out even the ice glistens like a fantasy castle from long ago. It's a party  full of good cheer  laughter and happiness  a time for all to gather  some travel from far away  others absent for years  at the end of the day  you are always welcome Cheeks tinged with pink  it's a bit cold outside  come inside where it's warm  have a cup of cocoa  put your feet up by the fire  you have journeyed far  tell me the story  of your adventures

I'm sorry for all the distracting questions but they're very helpful for getting this right so we can accommodate as many option as we can you can use the same network but there's a specific version that we need to use to communicate Any questions you have that is applicable to this project called life you can use this to  make sure we can  get all the details to give you the right answer to any concerns you may have.

Memories of soft notes  floating over the garden gentle hands over guitar strings like a lover's caress. Words of promise and hope a young nightingale sings to woo a lonely heart into believing  she is so much more. The rose petals  touch the pale skin the spider lily blooms within the shadow of the moon. Warmth of summer nights sustain the wandering soul but the chill of autumn arrives all too soon and the promise is gone.

What is Haiga? Dip the glass pen into the ink make straight lines curved into letters minimal strokes of the brush to convey a scene for all to see green for spring flowers blue for deep rivers white for puffy clouds red for sunset's tears words and art work in tangent in harmony to make the idea whole.    (art "Star Dancer" copyright A. Dameron, 2015)   touch the stars tonight all over your fingertips dances all winter  

My soul is weary the weight of a lifetime betrayed by my body spirit burdened by failure fingers on the keyboard even stiff as they are serve as my salvation. I look in the mirror and see an old woman her eyes shiny with tears held back her smile trembles at the edges so no one will see. The point of my pen breaks against the paper I've pushed too hard lived too long loved too much Even the strongest of souls has their flimsiest of limits.

Glorified transcendence the dark becomes light the blind can finally see at the end of the road is the beginning of a brand new adventure the acceptance of whatever will come is a comfort to some but to others it is intolerable and they rebel against the status quo the passivity Some would call them  demons others would call them fighters but the age old story of salvation versus damnation is always written by the self-righteous.

Write what comes from the heart and let your soul have a voice that wellspring of feeling that bubbles within your chest and the flood of ideas that clamor to be free honor the time and the place see the ripples of the words touch every corner of your universe.

two particles float through the ether seek yet not find time has no meaning they move yet are static but somehow, some way they find themselves in each other's space neither asks how or why it happens it just does they dance in an orbit tentative but daring opposites attract  same ones repel  who knows  if the reaction  will be explosive

Writing prompt on Bluesky. Write an elegy. A song for what was  a fragile flower  nurtured from seed  to soft bud  that spread its petals  to greet the sun  in a brief moment of glory  in the warmth of Life  but gone too soon  as the winter's snows  fall on the ground  and the leaves  fall weeping  to mourn.

She doesn't claim  to be a saint she's only yet  another sinner  don't put her  upon a pedestal don't sing hymns that extol her virtues don't erase all of her vices don't sanitize the life she has led to justify the morals you wish to enforce.

Spider's web in a beam of sunlight adorned with morning dew and glistens with late December frost the wind tries to uproot it but the silk strands hold fast where is  the current occupant or is it just waiting for a new one to move in when spring arrives?