post a non-mishpacha/binah magazine style story.

gp2.0

Fri, Jan 14 2011, 12:10 am

Keeping my eyes fixed on the MedLink building looming in the distance, I cross the crowded street, squinting in the sun. I don't blame myself for buying sunglasses in the dollar store; I'm not immune to the allure of buying ten items that have a combined price of less than ten dollars.

However, I do blame myself for wearing them. The light glinting off the steel-and-glass buildings is relentless and harsh, and the cheap plastic lenses covering my eyes do almost nothing to relieve the glare. In fact, I'm not entirely sure they're UV protective. I should have known better.

I am careful not to meet anyone's gaze, though my reluctance doesn't stem from embarrassment or fear. In this city, eye contact is reserved for those experiencing either an emergency or insanity. This unwritten rule is so severe that I hesitate to allow my gaze to land on anyone else's despite the sunglasses covering half of my face.

"Excuse me," I say, accidentally bumping into a thin woman. She doesn't acknowledge me, not even a blink in my direction, busily adjusting the white scarf draped fashionably around her shoulders. Everything else she's wearing is black.

(there's the opening scene, anyone care to continue? LOL

)

mummiedearest

Fri, Jan 14 2011, 12:42 am

sunshine! wrote:

I tiptoe out of the room, mentally patting myself on the back. I did it! I put 3 kids to sleep all by myself. The night stretches out in front of me like a magical red carpet. Sheer bliss. I begin to imagine... First, I will go to the bathroom for 5 whole uninterrupted minutes. Then, I will get to clear away the leftovers without someone reminding themselves that they are still "starving". I can actually check my emails without the baby unplugging the tangle of wires at my feet. I can even read the mail without the pages getting shredded or drooled on. Wow! I feel like I conquered the world!

"Ma?" My heart sinks. "I need a drink." No, not again. We were done. Everyone was sleeping, weren't they? Drink dispensed, kid tucked in, I hurry down the steps. Oh no. I freeze. Is that crying I hear? Sigh. I go back up. The baby is fussing. She is pulling at her ear and my shirt simultaneously. I'm having deja vu. We've definitely been here before tonight. Tylenol given, baby tucked in. I'm off like a bullet. The target: bathroom. I grab a magazine off the rack and settle down.

I think I hear a pillow fight in the next room. Too bad. I put 3 kids to sleep already and I am done for the night.

I'm starting to relate to this one. my kids' discovered they can pop out of bed multiple times a night.

ah, reality.

superjew

Fri, Jan 14 2011, 11:47 am

Friday morning rolls around, my favorite day of the week, well almost. Its right around the corner.
I quickly finish up some last minute cleaning. We like to do things ahead so that we're ready & relaxed by the time candle lighting comes along.
I sweep. I mop. I wash some left over dishes. I set the table.
I sit down & smile. My shabbos table is waiting for the shabbos, just like we are. Deep breathe. I jump up, take out the kugel, prepare the hot plate. Jump into the shower.
I'm make-upped & dressed lighting the candles. Praying to God, thanking Him for all the things we have & all the things to come. I cry praying for those in need. " Good Shabbos!" I chime merely turning to my adoring husband & beautiful son standing near me awaiting their shabbos kiss. What a beautiful moment. Peace.
I welcome shabbos with open arms every week. Its never enough.
Thank You Hashem for giving us this weekly gift.

Good Shabbos every one!

amother

Fri, Jan 14 2011, 2:07 pm

My neighbor comes to bring back a box of pasta she borrowed. She’s also carrying her baby daughter, born just two weeks ago. Beautiful, precious, wrapped in a pink blanket and with a head full of hair. She offers the baby to me and of course, I cradle her in my arms. I breathe in her sweet scent and smile down at her little lips and nose. It almost brings me to tears.

I think back to the news I received three days previously. That I need surgery. Surgery that will hopefully allow me to also have a baby like the beautiful one in my arms. Surgery that I’m terrified of, yet want to have as soon as possible. Surgery that holds my hopes and prayers in the balance. Surgery that the doctor considers “minor,” but which seems pretty major to me. I mean, we are talking about cutting open my uterus here. I’m not sure how it can be described as minor.

And I look down at the baby in my arms, and up at her mother who is beaming and doesn’t mind her exhaustion from being up nights. And I wonder if I’ll ever have that feeling. If the baby in my arms will ever be mine. And I think about the surgery, and hope.

PinkFridge

Fri, Jan 14 2011, 2:14 pm

WADR to some of the very emotional and personal stuff, and some of the other, from what I can tell, they would do quite nicely in the weeklies. Unless you're looking for someone to take it in some bizarro direction, but I think people here are probably too scared, assuming it's serious and real.

Shuly

Thu, Jan 20 2011, 5:44 am

I take the vial out of the fridge and roll it between my hands, warming it up to body temperature. Back and forth, back and forth. The thin glass soon loses its coolness as the clear liquid inside sloshes between my palms. As I roll, I glance at the table and go through my mental checklist.

Cotton balls, check.
Alcohol, check.
Syringe, check.

I prefer to busy myself with the practical details. It helps keep my mind off of the emotions - and the fear that swirls within me.

Finally, I am ready. I prepare the syringe, wet a cotton ball with alcohol and grab hold of a piece of flesh. I feel like a diver standing at the edge of a pool about to jump in.
I take a deep breath.
I can do this.
I've done it many times before...but I still feel that rush of fear and queasiness each time.

I pause.
I can't.
It's too much!
Why can't I be like everyone else?
Stop thinking - if you think, you'll lose the courage and beside, it doesn't really hurt!

"It doesn't hurt," I tell myself as I wipe the wet cotton ball once again. I shiver from the coldness of the alcohol on my skin. I position myself and quickly inject.
Ouch.

PinkFridge

Sun, Jan 23 2011, 9:30 pm

[quote="Shuly"]I take the vial out of the fridge and roll it between my hands, warming it up to body temperature. Back and forth, back and forth. The thin glass soon loses its coolness as the clear liquid inside sloshes between my palms. As I roll, I glance at the table and go through my mental checklist.]

Thanks! Glad to know someone takes me seriously.
Though maybe there's a middle ground LOL

cuties' mom

Sun, Jan 23 2011, 10:46 pm

I wake up from a little hand pulling my hair. "Ouch!" I exclaim, and pull my blanket over my head. "Up, up, up," my 2-year-old screams. I take the blanket off my head and look at the clock. 5:15. Still too early. The little hand tugs at my hair again. I pull the blanket over my head and wait. "Up, up, up" he screams again. I roll over and continue waiting, knowing what will happen next. "Wa-wa," came the next request, right on schedule. I stick one hand out from under my blanket and hand over the sippy cup. Crash! Mr. Defiant threw his cup on the floor. I pretended not to notice and continued to wait. "Wa-wa," came the insistent voice again. "No more water. You threw it on the floor," I mutter sleepily. I tighten the blanket on my head in order to block out the frantic screams. I hear some groaning as my 4-year-old rolls on top of me. "I want a blanket." I pull part of the blanket out for my big guy and try to keep my hair out of the little guy's hands. "Up, up, up," the monster continues to scream. "We can't get up yet," his big brother explains. "The clock still has a five. We're not allowed to get up until 6:10." I try to go back to sleep as the above scenario repeats several times. I'm finally successful when my 4-year-old gleefully announces, "Its 6:10! Time to get up everybody!"
I look for the defiant monster who killed my night's sleep and instead find two delightful boys sitting on my bed waiting for me to get up. I lead my boys into the bathroom to wash negel vasser and forget about the monster until......
I wake up from a little hand pulling my hair. One day I will catch that monster who takes over my son's body for the first hour of the day.