The Road Not Taken
Caraline sat at the spaceport cafe table and watched herself walk in. As always, it was a strange experience. The woman paused in the doorway until she spotted Caraline. Then she wove through the tables toward her. The other woman had gained some weight, softened. Caraline straightened in her seat, suddenly conscious of her slender frame and stylish pantsuit. Perhaps she should have dressed down more, to match the other woman’s comfortable jeans and sweater.
Prior to the accident she had been both Cara and Caraline depending on the situation. Now she was just Caraline. It was a simple way to distinguish, to declare some semblance of separateness. Continue reading Day Five: Sandra Tayler
Christ will come down from the sky
Dressed in glorious red robes.
Every knee will bend;
Every tongue confess.
All wrongs, all pain, all evil will fail.
Until that day,
I need to keep my bank account balance Continue reading Day Four: Emily Harris Adams
No Substitute for Chocolate
“I have some bad news,” her husband said as he came home from Sunday bishopric meetings. “I really tried to suggest it. But they wouldn’t listen. You’re not getting food for Mother’s Day. You’re getting pansies.”
“Seriously?” She shook her head. It’s not that she was surprised, just that she was hoping for a little magic this year.
“I know, I’m sorry. I couldn’t convince them. I’ll try again next year, though.” He kissed her cheek and joked, “But hey, I hear you can eat pansies.”
She stuck her tongue out at him.
I am not getting pansies again next year, she silently vowed. I’ll make sure of that. Then she smiled. She had an idea. Continue reading Day Three: Jeanna Stay
The Elder Who Wouldn’t Stop…
Elder Russell’s greenie was the most diligent, obedient missionary he had served with so far in Spain. There was only one problem: he wouldn’t stop drumming. During breakfast, lunch and dinner; phone calls, visits, and discussions. With his fingers, his fists, his feet, his knees, his mouth. With forks and spoons, pens and pencils, pamphlets and notebooks, twigs and breadsticks. On the bus and on the metro; on the table and on the counter; on the elevator and on the stairs. On his chest and legs and arms. On his scriptures, on his dinner plate, on his backpack, on his bed. On every door frame, every handrail, every seat back, every street sign. And even sometimes on Elder Russell. Continue reading Day Two: Wm Morris
“But as good as the price-per-ounce may be, you just don’t need that much mayonnaise.”
—CBS MoneyWatch, “5 Things You Should Buy At Costco”
It is tempting to begin aggressively,
To ask what you—with your elevators and your “buzzing-in,”
Your taxis and your tiny, drooping houseplants,
Your Holiday Parties, and your solitary coffee breaks—
Know of shouting, giggling masses of children
Bursting like not-quite-sentient maggots
From the secondhand, mortifying Station Wagon.
Continue reading Day One: Marilyn Nielson