Pamela Wight's Blog, page 7

Slow Gravy Days

Gravy is rich and thick. Good gravy, anyway.

Back in the beginning of our holidays together, my guy cooked the entire turkey meal, including stuffing and gravy. When our kids were young, they observed him reach in the turkey cavity and bring out the giblets, which he cut up after boiling them in a pot of water. Then, in a pan of melting butter, he sautéed the giblets with onions and celery and slowly, slowly added the juices from the roasted turkey.

Watching faces alight with wond...

The Hourglass of Our Life

“Time will tell.”

“There is a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in.”

“There’s always light at the end of the tunnel.”

“Time you enjoy wasting is not wasted time.”

“Your time is up.”

What, exactly, will time tell? Will it tell me that my days are numbered? Personally, I’d like to think that my days are worded. My days are stories, one-by-one as a child, then a dozen, then hundreds as the years roll on.

I’m loaded with hundreds of stories to tabulate in the recess of...

The Trash Plan

Evelyn hadn’t seen Steve in over 25 years. They’d dated in high school. He was the cool jock; you know the type. Mussed up hair, tight grungy jeans, a permanent smirk on his handsome face. Evelyn was the goody-good cheerleader, top grades, anxious about getting into the “right” school.

Steve was her one rebellious act before she left high school. As soon as she received the acceptance letter to Princeton, she relaxed. Okay. Now, time to explore before the all-on battle to succeed in colle...

A Witchy Writer’s Incantation

Star bright star light set my broom aside

Let me walk upon the clouds, nothing under me

I need no lift, I need not ask for a flying ride

When creativity is my guide, I am true and free.

Let me walk upon the clouds, nothing under me

As I float I’ll write a poem, delicate yet rough

With creativity as my guide, I am true and free

Words are LIGHT, and gliding right, they become enough.

As I float I’ll write a poem, delicate yet rough

I need no...

Green Hope

“‘Be Bop a Lula,’” he says.

“What?”

“That’s her name, ‘Be Bop a Lula.’”

Jill inwardly rolls her eyes. Jason has been softly pushing her for more during the last year. More time together, more intimacy, more thoughts of moving in together. She’s a ‘less is more’ kind of woman. At least, that’s what she’s become.

“Why is that the plant’s name?” Jill asks, pointing to the hanging plant in his hand.

“Well, doesn’t she look like a Be Bop a Lula?”

The large pl...

A Strange Wonderful Writing World in Haiku … and in Five Answers

I view the strange world

a vantage point of distance

Seated at my desk.

Clouds and sunshine peek

Like flirts on a summer’s day

Through the window blind.

Birds sweep with a laugh

Through the orange red branches

I spread my wings too.

First, with a 5-7-5 haiku structure I share a vantage point of my writing days.  And below, I share five structured questions and answers about my writing and reading life.

Brashley Photography, a beautiful photography blog, is highlighting photograp...

Living with the Frilly Side Up

So many times in my youth I felt awkward, in so many ways. But I’ll start with the first indication that for my entire life I’d be …. awkward.

I began wondering why the heck I was “here,” as in in this world, by the age of 3. No one seemed to understand me, even though I figured out language skills early. I’d point to the elves dancing in the bushes outside our small one-story house, and my parents didn’t see them. In fact, they’d shake their head and say, “Pammy.” As if I was doing somet...

Tea for Two

The first time Leezy appeared, I admonished her. Days after, I berated myself for my behavior.

I hadn’t seen Leezy in over 25 years. I’d decided that she’d forgotten me, despite her promises. Until . . .           

“There you are!” I exclaimed out loud, sitting alone at the tiny café I frequent. I’m a writer, and although I have a quiet room in my home office, my words don’t come to me there. Instead, I bring pen and paper to Sadie’s Sanctuary (yes, sappy, but Sadie is a sweetie, a...

Earbud Meditation

I seize the opportunity to use my new earbuds, a gift to myself last December that I still hadn’t figured out how to use. Not sure why I had felt such a need to buy them except for the fact that I watched my two grandchildren – 11 and 12 – walk around their house smiling as they listened to a book (or music?) with small white objects stuck in their ears.

Did I mention sprinkled chocolate on top?

So here it is, 6:15 in the morning. My guy has left to pick up our special drink orders (don’...

The Surprise at the Party

Petey hated parties and she hated that her best friend, Sarah, begged her to attend this one. At 61 years of age, Petey was too old to “do” parties. She’d met enough people in her life, thank you very much, and there were few she liked.

Sarah was one person who Petey admired, but as Petey stood on one foot, and then the other in the back corner of Sarah and Don Tavish’s living room along with a stray red balloon floating above her, she wondered if even Sarah should be crossed off her list...