Pungence

 

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Photo credit:  Kent Bonham

The odor grew stronger everyday.  At first, Nita assumed it was road kill from the highway.  But it grew in intensity and on Thursday, grocery day for Nita, the smell followed her all the way to the store.

She checked her tires, thinking she had run over something icky.

She had loaned her car to Don.  Had he left something in the trunk?  There was a sinking feeling in her stomach. Her friends had warned her about Don.

Prepared for the worst, she opened the trunk, and immediately slammed it shut.

Damn it…. Don and his Limburger Cheese obsession…

 

To read other one hundred word stories, based on this same photo prompt visit this link and click on the blue InLinkz button.

https://rochellewisoff.com/2017/07/19/21-july-2017/

Our host Rochelle Wysoff-Fields makes this all possible.

 

 

 

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Still Life

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photo credit: Janet Webb

A jar of his favorite candy.

The tears in her eyes made the shiny wrappers all blurry;  like the memories of better times.

A scented candle in the window, patchouli fragrance. Funny how a certain smell could make you remember.

Late afternoon sunshine filtering through the window….it had been their favorite time of day.

The sketch she had made of him while he slept…..why had she never framed it?  It seemed pointless now.

He should have been more careful.

Soon it would be over forever.

She would make him pay for throwing all these wonderful memories away.

 

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Thanks to Rochelle for hosting this week’s Friday Fictioneer photo prompt.

You can read lots of stories at this link:

https://rochellewisoff.com/

 

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Seeking

It was terrifying.  For the first time in her life, she was alone.  She had worked through the sadness, the grief, as best as she could.  It was time to move away and try to start over.  

She didn’t have many years left. Her children were not happy with the decision.  Her grandchildren thought it was a great idea.  

“Live it up, Grandma!  Have some adventures!”  they said. 

As she walked through the narrow avenue, she vowed not to look back. It had been a great life but it was time for change. Adventures would be good, or just happiness.

 

 

Thanks to Rochelle Wysoff-Fields for the photo prompt this week for Friday Fictioneers.

Stories of 100 words.

 

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Marge and Glenn

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letter June 16 194306142017

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June 16, 1943.  Duluth, Minnesota.  He was almost twenty-two.  She was twenty.  World War II raged in other parts of the world, but for one day, the war was forgotten for this couple.   Glenn was stationed in Duluth after enlisting in the Coast Guard.  Marge had hopped on a train in Carey, Ohio, to meet Glenn and marry him.  They spent one night together and then Marge headed back to Ohio, back to a job so she could save for their future, and back to her parents to explain where she had been.  Marge’s little sister, Burdeen, covered for her while she was gone.

It was a bold move for a small-town farm girl from the Midwest.  Was this her first trip out of state?  Quite possibly.  And it was a doozy.  She was a spunky girl, but running off to get married so far away was pretty amazing.  Eventually, Marge returned to Duluth, found a job as a waitress, and began her life as Glenn’s wife until 1945 when they discovered their family was expanding.  Again she left for Ohio to await the birth of their first child.

And then… the war was over, Glenn came home to Ohio.  They worked hard and raised two children, my brother and me.  They were married sixty-two years when Marge passed away in 2005.

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June 16, 1943

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photo prompt by Dale Rogerson

 

“I’ll bet no one has ever called Duluth Minnesota paradise,” said Marge, “but that’s what it feels like tonight.”

Glenn looked at his new bride and smiled.  “It sure is paradise.”

They walked hand in hand along the water, watching the moon and clouds and each other.
“I hate it that you have to go back home already tomorrow,” said Glenn.

“Well, my parents don’t know I am here and I have to get back to work so we can save for our future together.   It will only be for a little while.”

They kissed and walked toward the hotel.

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My parents were married June 16, 1943, so when I saw the date on Rochelle’s  https://rochellewisoff.com/tag/friday-fictioneers/   blog for this week’s post, I knew my topic in an instant.  Working backwards, this week I had to make the photo prompt fit my idea!

 

Find out a little more about this story at this link   https://retiredruth.wordpress.com/2017/06/14/marge-and-glenn/

 

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A Sweet Surprise

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Dilapidated.

The price was right.  It was all she could afford. Seriously it was a dump, but at least she would be off the streets.  The foundation was sturdy. There wasn’ t any mold. The doors and windows were secure except for the crazy little back porch full of plants.

There was enough back yard for a small garden.  She hoped the realtor would accept her offer.  Who else would want it?

A huge smile slowly stretched across her face as she opened the drawers in the desk that housed the plants.

She wouldn’t have to worry about fixing this place up!

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Thanks to Rochelle for hosting .  You can find her here:  https://rochellewisoff.com/

Thanks to Sarah Potter for the photo prompt.

 

 

 

 

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This Old House

Our farmhouse was built in 1909.  It was purchased by my husband’s family in 1951.  My husband and his three brothers grew up here and shortly after we were married in 1971 we moved in.   I grew up in old farmhouses so there was little adapting for me.  I was used to drafty windows, creaky floors, narrow stairways, and upstairs bedrooms with no heat.

My in-laws did basic, but important updates during the twenty years they lived here.   They concreted the basement, put in new windows, new doors (interior and exterior), updated the bathroom, updated the kitchen in 1964, added hardwood floors, and put in a furnace.

But as the years passed and our family grew, more updates were needed.  In 1979 we built a family room with fireplace and a downstairs master bedroom and added a bathroom and walk in closet.  When my son started his own construction business about 15 years ago, we hired him to replace the windows and put on vinyl siding and new entry doors.  Little by little we kept the house looking as fresh as we could afford.    A few years ago we gutted the kitchen and again, my son helped me by  creating a new kitchen.

The four upstairs bedrooms were a blessing when the kids were growing up.  There was plenty of space and while we didn’t remodel upstairs, we painted and wallpapered and carpeted as they grew and needed their own space.

All those bedrooms and all that space turned me into a borderline hoarder.  It is definitely a disadvantage to have lots of space because I tend to fill it up with the stuff I don’t need anymore.  So instead of getting rid of things, I move them upstairs…. out of sight… out of mind.

I have been attempting to declutter for many years (even before decluttering was the trendy thing to do)  but I never made much headway.  I would get rid of loads of stuff, have garage sales, give stuff away and would have some space.  But it quickly filled up with more stuff.

I’m at it again.  Last summer I painted one bedroom and purchased twin beds for a guest room.  Another bedroom had a double bed and will soon be liveable again as I clean and rearrange furniture.  A third bedroom actually does have a heating/a/c duct.  It was always the nursery for that reason.  Now I have moved all our photographs, photo albums, memorabilia, and business file cabinets in that room as well as a desk to help me sort through all of the photos I have.  I inherited many of the family pictures from both sides of our family (because I have the space)  but I am preparing to sort and give away to the next generation.    The fourth bedroom is the junk room.  Christmas decorations, seasonal decorations, toys that the grandkids sometimes play with, glassware that was packed away during the kitchen remodel in 2013 and never unpacked, an old stereo system, a keyboard, canning supplies, and boxes of sheet music given to me by my piano teacher in 1968.  I do have some emotional issues here.

While painting the latest guest room I remembered why old houses are such a challenge.  I painted three walls a light gray and one wall a darker shade of gray.  The walls are plaster, cracked from over a hundred years of freezing and thawing and kids jumping up and down.  Some of the cracks have been patched over and over and are never going to look new unless we replace with new drywall.  I don’t have the energy for that anymore and the dust from the cleanup… its horrendous.  So I patched and painted and touched up.  There are no square corners in the room, so painting one wall a different color was pretty tricky.  Its not perfect but its fresh and new and it will  do.

Since I began this post (several months ago)  our youngest adult child has moved home. More rearranging has been completed to accommodate their belongings.   I guess what keeps this old house alive is transition.   From one generation to the next, children moving in and out, grandchildren spending overnights; it all continues and makes this old house a home.

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This is our farm in the 1950’s.  None of the buildings in the picture or the old big barn remain.

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