Greenwich Pen Women, a branch of the National League of American Pen Women, is a non-profit organization of women artists, writers, and musicians. We offer mutual support and exchange of ideas to encourage and inspire excellence in original creative work.
Subscribe to this blog
Follow by Email
HINT OF THE MONTH - JANUARY 2021
“In the planning stage of a book, don’t plan the ending. It has to be earned by all that will go before it.” ~~ Rose Tremain
My parents needed a break from the constant battling between my two younger brothers. Dad was so embarrassed by my brothers’ constant fighting that he runaround the house slamming windows shut. “Be quiet! The neighbors will hear you!” He tried to protect his reputation as model parent and church leader. Furthermore, he was the drum major in a bagpipe band that raised money for Shriners Hospitals for Children. He had to protect his image as a lover of children … even his own. However, one day the boys fought viciously on the front lawn. Dad was so mad that he ran outside and screamed, “I’m going to send you to two different reform schools!” His face turned red and I thought he’d have a stroke. Unwittingly, I added fuel to the fire. I ran outside and stuck up for my brothers. “If you send the boys away, you’ll have to send me, too!” I don’t know what made me think that Dad wouldn’t have been glad to get rid of all three of us, but he stopped yelling ... too late to avo
A small moment Larger than Life Short in duration Yet everlasting. We hadn't seen each other in 22 days The longest we'd ever been apart. She yelled when she saw me, "MeMa's HERE!!!" I heard her through the glass. I saw her through the glass Smiling and jumping Giggling and screeching Joy exuding from her little body All because of me. I made silly faces and Sang our silly song I showed her a gift I brought to be left by the door Retrieved later by her Mommy, My precious daughter, Once she dons a Mask and Gloves And sprays it with disinfectant. We pretended to hug And then we kissed. I imagined the glass wasn’t there. Yes, I felt her through the glass. Her love coursed through my veins Enough to sustain me for a little while And I hope that she felt the same. A small moment Larger than life Short in duration Yet everlasting. Cathy Horn and her granddaughter visiting through the window