Living On Pine Street

~ JodiLea ~ 2 Comments

Writing 101: Day 11
Tell us about the home where you lived when you were twelve. The Twist? Pay attention to the size of  your sentences.

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I was almost 4 years old when we came to Livermore, CA. My dad was hired by the large research lab there, so we moved from Southern up to Central California, and we moved into a cute little house on Pine Street.

I had my 12th birthday party in the house on Pine Street. My BFF since third grade was there. I didn’t really have a lot of friends, I was goofy looking, and that made me shy.

I did most of my growing up on that street. We knew the neighbors. My little sister and the little girl next door were the same age, and next door on the other side lived our babysitter. She was cool because she played with us, and didn’t spend all night on the phone.

If you count the years I lived on Pine Street, you would only have to count to ten. We moved across town, “to the right side of the tracks” my mom said, when I was 15. The new house had a pool AND it was a short walk to school now, so I was happy. My bedroom even had a purple (my favorite color) carpet. I didn’t think much about the old house.

Now, I was the girl next door who babysits. Funny how things turn around like that. I still dream, on occasion, that I live in that Pine Street house – but I’m an adult, not a kid. When I am there, it is always at night, and something scary is going on. I’m hiding crouched on the floor because I don’t want to be seen by aliens, or an enemy’s army, through the picture window in the living-room. Or meteors are smacking into our area, if it’s not a terrible earthquake. Something big and nasty.

I honestly think these nightmares have nothing to do with Pine Street. They are manifested by spending a lot of grade school under my desk, my head tucked under my arms, and my eyes closed tight. They called them “Duck and Cover” drills. Practicing, for when nuclear bombs were going to strike.

I had no clue what a nuclear bomb was. I do remember the classrooms had huge windows on one side though.

Friday Excuses

~ JodiLea ~ 5 Comments

Apologies all around for not spreading Thursdays Tid-Bits & Giggles.

It was like Friday the 13th came a day early here. Bad news all around. I’ll spare you the sad details, and I can only hope that today is like most of my Friday the 13th’s – a great day.  I’m sort of backasswards* that way.

I sure could have used some giggles myself. This makes me feel guilty about not giving any out. Someone may have looked for a good giggle yesterday and I failed them.  😦

I did get a giggle last night – right before midnight. I was reading my email and scrolling through Facebook  posts from family and friends. And there it was!

ThelmaAndLouise-Maybe

Thank you, thank you, Luke and Jo!  I went to bed with a much lighter heart.  I miss you guys!

 

 

* back ass wards: adjective, a way of being backwards or opposite from the norm.  [From the Dictionary of Words that Should Exist]

The Letter

~ JodiLea

Writing 101: Day Five
You stumble upon a random letter on the path. You read it. It affects you deeply, and you wish it could be returned to the person to which it’s addressed. Write a story about this encounter.
Today’s twist: Approach this post in as few words as possible.

[Author’s note: I was excited to post the link on writing 101 that I forgot to publish it. Duh!  Apologies to readers who clicked and went nowhere]

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I would have never found the letter if I had been in shape and didn’t have to stop for a rest, halfway up the hill. It had been there for some time, because it was pressed into the dirt and exposed to the elements.
Did I dare open and read it? Although torn and battered, the envelope had not been opened or torn.

I hurried home to investigate further. I used a soft make-up brush and gently swept the envelope free of surface dirt. I had a magnifying glass in my office, which I needed to make out the faded writing.

Sophia Miller
183 Northward Way
Gilroy, Illinois   61876

The faded postmark was the hardest to read, but it looked like it originated in New York, and I was 99% sure the date was September 10, 2001. A chill shot up my spine when I realized the letter had probably been in New York the day Al Qaeda destroyed the twin towers.

Did Sophia have family in New York? A boyfriend? Husband? Child?  It was making me anxious. I needed to know who wrote her this letter!

Instead of opening Sophie’s letter, I booted up my laptop and searched the white pages for Gilroy, IL. No Sophia to be found, however there was an S. Miller in Gilroy, and I would bet money it was Sophia.

I dialed the phone number listed, and a young woman answered with “Hello?”

“Hi, I’m calling for Sophia Miller.”

“I’m Sophia” she replied. I could tell by her voice she was suspecting I had something to sell, or wanting her to give to a cause.

“My name is Cari, and I just found an old letter addressed to you, postmarked in New York”

“Where are you located?” she asked me.

“Northern California.”

“Wow” she said, then silence.  “Who is it from?” she finally asked.

“There is no return address.” I said, hoping she would ask me to open the letter for her.

But she didn’t. The next day I mailed off a larger envelope to Sophia with the old letter enclosed.

Dammit!