Erica the Beautiful

https://youtu.be/IXiRuSIXbns

Truly Phenomenal

Erica the Beautiful

My princess threw herself a fairy tale last night. In a rustic alley reminiscent of the Prohibition era, with a flower girl twirling a turquoise parasol,  surrounded by love, my niece married her true love.

When she appeared at the end of the aisle,  my heart jumped into my throat so hard, so unexpectedly to me, that my nephews burst into tears.  In that instant,  I saw the little girl in a white bonnet, beaming at church because she thought the choir was singing her praises in the hymn "Erica the Beautiful". I saw the sweet cherub running to me crying as her older brother chased her down. I saw the twelve year old at the kitchen sink late at night,  doing dishes and calling for her little brothers to get ready for bed. I saw the fifteen year old, brimming with pride, handing me her binder filled with her plans of being a detective.  I saw the little girl holding back tears when talking about her dad's new family.  I saw the angry teen, scrawling epitaphs in sharpie all over her mattress when my mother died. I saw the brave young woman in combat gear when she was in Iraq. I saw her.

Brave beyond belief.  Full of faith beyond reason that her dreams would come true. And they did.

She is a formidable force. Creator of award winning cakes. Traveling nurse working on her Master's between medical missions to Third World countries. Proud Veteran and incurable romantic,  with unmatched style and organizational skills. When I look at her now, as the woman she's become,  it's easy to forget that little girl longing for love.

Last night,  her phenomenal entirety came crashing into my mind all at once. This girl I cried so many tears for. The one that hoped beyond incredible odds that if she just tried her best her life would be a fairy tale proved herself true.

She is my hero.

And not just mine. It occurred to me,  as I watched her father/daughter dance, surrounded by her brothers and stepdad,  that she had a hand in raising us all. I don't think I was the only one.  I don't think I have ever seen so many men cry so hard at a wedding.  I know none of us were prepared for it. I think it says something about this phenomenal woman that so many phenomenal men reacted so viscerally to Erica's dream wedding.  She sacrificed so much of herself,  her youth, to be a good example to her brothers, to all of us. After so much selflessness,  sacrifice, and loneliness, so many disappointments that we helpless to shield her from, our princess became her own knight and made herself complete. Then she found a prince and a knight as goofy, sentimental, courageous,  passionate,  ambitious,  and free -spirited as she is. 

For so long,  she seemed to me the muse for this song, but now this little girl with nothing wrong isn't all alone.

Phenomenal Me

This post is in response to prompt #18: Phenomenal Women.

It’s hard to recognize a single woman who has influenced me. My life has had no shortage of phenomenal women, so here’s to all of them…

My mom who birthed me, raised me, and taught me what truly unconditional, unbreakable, infinite love is. Lucky for me, my grandmother also came with the package. My Bubbie loved family above all else. She taught me to cook, not with recipes but with love. I should only feel as beautiful and smart and perfect as I was in her eyes.

My sister, who above all else has been on the journey with me to womanhood. Sharing the most challenging and triumphant moments in young womanhood. Teaching me what I should look for in every friend I meet and expect nothing less than what she always shared with me.

My teachers, all of them, I never had a bad one. Mrs. Schneider, Mrs. Baranoff, Ms. Ritcher, Mrs. Kravitz, Mrs. Bliok, Mrs. Ortola. The teachers at E.M. Baker Elementary School in Great Neck, New York were outstanding. Each of them was special in their own way. Mrs. Schneider recognized me in a mall in Florida, almost ten years after I was in her Kindergarten class. Ms. Ritcher taught us to square dance. Mrs. Bliok brought back the fountain pen and taught us to write in cursive with the most beautiful peacock blue wet ink. Mrs. Ortola gave us our own checking accounts and had an archeological dig in a giant raised sandbox. They instilled a love of learning in me during the most important time in my development.

My friends’ moms, the ones who were like mine, and the ones who weren’t. Julie’s mom, Linda, who was a wonderful artist and hand calligraphied all of the neighborhood Bar-Mitzvah invitations and hosted sleepover birthday parties. Jennifer’s mom, Carolyn, the school librarian who treated me like I was her own. Gillian’s mom, Suzanne, who was a musical free spirit who allowed us to explore the same in ourselves. And Stacy’s mom, Judy, who took me in like her own and even on family vacations, when my parents were splitting up.

My co-workers at the domestic violence center, where I had my first “grown-up” job. I learned to put others before self and became hooked on working in the non-profit sector. All of them for helping me understand women’s issues, and the challenges of women of color, and how a grassroots organization of women can empower a community.

My friends who have survived tragedies, losing children, losing parents. Fighting their way out of financial challenges and broken families. Committing themselves to be the best parents, teachers, nurses, artists, writers, lawyers, realtors, human beings they can be.

My grade school students over the years who have fought poverty, trauma, abuse, learning difficulties, broken homes, mental illness, or just childhood in general in the 21^st century.

My college students who are raising children, working full time, supporting their families, and going to school. And doing really well at all of it.

There are so many more. The women I work with now at PACE. They give everything, heart and soul to the young women we serve. We all try to live by example and role model for the young women in our center. We work tirelessly to help them see the possibilities in life.

I am inspired everyday by the phenomenal women in my life, young and old. I learn from them every day, about kindness and grace. About forgiveness and love. About persistence and commitment. About sacrifice and beauty. About being a phenomenal woman. All of them are part of me and who I am as a woman. I am phenomenal because of them.

Dinner with the In-laws by Annmarie Ferry

For prompt #19 Grocery List Flash Fiction, I am finishing a story that I began at the Sanibel Island Writer's Conference.  It's kind of cheating, but I like what I have so far and want to see it to fruition. I don't have a picture of the list, but it was titled "dinner with the in-laws" and included the following: chicken boobs, garlic, cheap white wine, zucchini, beer, and whiskey. A little bubble letter note on the bottom read:  Please remember to get EVERYTHING this time. If not, add "new wife" to the bottom of this list."

With that said, I plan to visit the found grocery list site often for inspiration--or just a good laugh. I might even pluck a few to use as part of a lesson in the classroom on characterization.

I just hope no one ever finds my grocery lists...

Dinner with the In-Laws

The beads of sweat forming on Kelsey's upper lip threatened to dissolve her carefully applied Bonne Bell Lip Smack gloss. This was the first time that she would host a dinner for her new in-laws. She wasn't worried about her father-in-law; as long as he had his whiskey, he would wolf down about anything.

But, her mother-in-law was a different story.  Although her taste in wine was less-than-sophisticated, she was quite the foodie. And quite the bitch.

"Did you get the garlic?" she frantically asked her husband, whose ass was comfortably planted on the sofa, beer in hand.

"Oops. Guess I forgot," he shrugged as he took a swig of beer, his Adam's apple bobbing as he gulped it down.

"You jerk!" she shrieked, not amused. "I even put a note on the list to P-U-H-L-E-E-Z get everything. Everything in ALL CAPS!"

"What's the big deal? It's only garlic?" Chip's gaze wandered back to the TV.

"Only garlic??? Only garlic???" Kelsey was ready to toss the pan at the back of his head. "I am making garlic chicken for your goddamn parents! You know your mother will looooooove this fuck up."

"Call it un-garlic chicken then," Chip chuckled at his own joke.

Now tears streamed down her face as she eyeballed the other spoils from Chip's half-assed shopping trip: zucchini, cheap white wine. She was considering just guzzling the entire bottle, but then inspiration struck.

She carefully sliced the zucchini as the chicken browned,  then removed it to sauté the veggies. When they softened, she splashed the pan with some white wine, added the chicken, and let it all simmer.

"Voila!" Kelsey exclaimed, victorious. "White wine chicken with zucchini."

"Is that even a thing?" Chip grunted.

"It is now." The back of his head, the pan, the temptation was becoming too much.

The ding dong of the doorbell came just in the nick of time.  Chip slowly peeled himself off the couch, beer in hand, to help Kelsey greet his parents.

"Hello, dears," chirped her mother-in-law, fake smile plastered across her smug face. "It smells divine in here."

"I would love to sniff some whiskey," grumbled her father-in-law as he gave Kelsey a quick peck on the cheek.

And so it began, dinner with the in-laws.  Thank God Chip remembered the whiskey--and to grab two bottles of cheap white wine.

Prompt #19 Grocery List Flash Fiction

I fell in love with flash fiction during my 2-day session with John Dufresne (pronounced Dufrane). One of my favorite exercises (although I haven't sat down to finish the story I started) was to write a piece based on a grocery list.  If you think about it, an individual's grocery list says a lot about that person and offers a unique glimpse into his or her life.  

In that spirit, check out the found grocery lists on grocerylists.org.  You access the lists by hovering over each image and clicking the link that pops up (directions on the top of the page). One you find a list that interests you, create a piece of flash fiction to tell a story about the person who wrote the list.  

It will be fun to see where this takes us!