No

People love me

until I say no

and sometimes

I must say no

(c) Glenda Kotchish

A note from the Universe TUT from here to there

Today from TUT.COM: 

Glenda, you are "here" (your life now) and you want to go "there" (your dreamed-of life). And because both are physical places, it would seem that you must manipulate the physical world to go from "here" to "there." 

Aha! This is the ultimate illusion. 

Physical places are simply mirages, reflections of an inner world, the world of your thoughts. So to get from "here" to "there," you must do your manipulating within. 

A thought worth dwelling on, 
    The Universe

A Wedding in Appomattox Virginia.

A Wedding in Appomattox Virginia.

It wasn’t a hurricane, not even quite a tropical storm.  We were headed west and hoped to beat the rain, hoped for the sun to shine on Roxanne’s wedding--her outside wedding.   But the rain seemed to travel with us, towards the foot of the mountains, to the farm.    

By the time we saw the balloons and dirt road leading to the farmhouse--the sprinkles had turned steady.  We passed a freshly cut field where an arch had been erected and artfully adorned with dark, red flowers and ribbons.   The wind blew sheets of rain onto  the cars parked on the side of the road, and onto the huge white tent behind the farm house.    

The clouds remained white and we still hoped for the sun to make its way through.   It’ didn’t.

The guest list had grown from a modest fifty to one-hundred.  The farmhouse had one working bathroom--located off the master-bedroom, and had no door.  So a bank of porta-johns had been placed behind a hedge of laurel, close to the tent.  

It was the end of summer.   We had gathered around the porch, under the trees.   Girls and women, dressed in light dresses, held umbrellas over their heads.   Men pulled golf umbrellas from their cars and work umbrellas from their trucks.   Everyone hoped that the arch in the field would be abandoned and the ceremony would be held in the huge, lovely, white and dry tent.  But word came that we should proceed to the field.    

We did.

We made a canopy of our umbrellas, organizing the smaller ones in the center and the larger ones on the outer edge.   Those without cover were called over to stand within the circle.  The men with their backs to the on-slanting rain found their trouser legs soon soaked.   But our bodies began to generate warmth within the circle.  There were several clusters dotted around the field.   

We waited.  

Word came that we should move closer to the arch and make an isle of sorts for the wedding party to pass through.   We walked as a unit, keeping umbrellas overhead and in formation.   

The groomsmen and groom took their places in front of the arch.   The mothers were escorted down the aisle--men holding umbrellas high overhead.   The bridesmaids in royal blue, knee-length dresses of different designs, carrying bouquets of roses and berries, balancing assorted, borrowed umbrellas in the air, most wearing cowboy boots - made their way to the left of the arch.  

Music drifted across the field, piano, “The Glasgow Love Theme”, and Roxanne appeared in her white, lace dress--looking like a goddess--a wreath of flowers and berries on her head, a bridesmaid holding her train out of the puddles, the flower girl tossing red rose petals along the way in front of her.     

When she reached her groom, the umbrellas were tossed aside.  They took each other’s hands and smiled and laughed as the officiant read the ceremony as the rain turned the paper soft in his hands.  

Roxanne and her James were married.  And that was that.  

© Glenda Kotchish

September 28, 2015

Where To?

Where To?

She wrote a page, then two, then another until before she knew it she had twenty pages of dialog, six characters and two in the wings.   She took the woman out of a busy, overtaxed environment to a secluded, out of touch, off the grid, cabin in thee woods via a boat trip up river and then overland by jeep on fire trails through the forest.

She left the woman alone, in the woods, in the cabin to make tea, coffee and open a can of soup.  She gave her a gun, just in case, an owners manual, a ham radio, just in case and 2 rocking chairs on a front porch, facing the lake and the mountains beyond.

The question is:  where to from here?   ‘cause she’s real and it’s not just a story.

© Glenda Kotchish

June 17, 2015

Next Generation

Thirty-Something in 2015

We are so different.

you want a shiny new penny

and we like the old Indian head penny 

have you ever seen one?

did you ever look at the coins

and marvel at the old dates?

We created the technology

to which you feel entitled

to which makes your world spin 

yet you scoff at the mainframe

and laugh at the giants' shoulders 

on which you unwittingly stand

Our fathers fought for our freedom

and we were aware

and we were thankful

and all that our fathers gave us

we were thankful

as we had eyes to see 

the needs unfilled of so many

and we were thankful for all we were given

But you - you want the shiny new kitchen

and the Jacuzzi bathtub

and the chrome facets

and the granite counters

and shiny new floors.

So much beauty in the old

that you are missing

in your plastic

Disney cartoon world.

(c) Glenda Kotchish

May 28, 2015 

The Encounter - A Short Short Story

The Encounter

She spoke quietly and slowly, looking directly at him.

“It’s not you.”

“It’s not yours.  It doesn't pertain to you – at all”.

Whatever it is that I’m feeling is me, mine, belonging exclusively to me.”

She took a breath and continued.   “This is how the world communicates.   The words may be directed toward you and seem to be for you – about you – and even the pronoun “you” and sometimes your name will be called out amidst it all.  But, understand, it is not about you”.

Another breath - “It is hard to understand that which is being said.” 

This is how she began the conversation with him. 

He opened his mouth to speak but she moved close to him and raised her index finger. She placed it to his lips – almost touching.  “Shh – don’t speak” she whispered.

He was startled.  He did not know her and so he took one step back in the tiny elevator.

She held his eyes with hers and placed that same index finger on her lips.

“Shh, not a word, please”.

The elevator doors opened and she turned around and stepped out.   She walked away without even a glance back.

© Glenda Kotchish

5/11/2015

Anna on Mother's Day

Anna on Mother's Day

Anna blew in town

today

she's kind of moody

one minute all sunshiny

the next - all dark and stormy eyed

tear drops flowing

then everything's fine 

"it was nothing really"

it's  all blown over

and now  ... she's blustering about

again.

She moans

that she stuck in a rut

...our unfortunate rut it seems

She insists

it's because 

"I'm tropical".

(c) Glenda Kotchish

April 9, 2015

Ocean Isle Beach, NC