Saturday, December 8, 2012


My Definition of Forgiveness:

Paper towels sandwiched in mommy’s purse 
between cheerios and a shopping list. 
Because sometimes the potty 
is too far away. 
And that’s okay.

Surprisingly, courage’s definition is the same.

This weekend we are giving you three variations on a prompt.  We need you to give us 33 words back, and 2 of those words must be either "cheap flights," "sandwiched in" or "spectacularly clean."  This weekend, your piece must also be non-fiction (poetry or prose).  And yes, we reserve the right to call your mothers and former lovers to ask for verification on your tales.

This weekend's challenge, being a Trifextra evenly divisible by three, will be judged by the community.  Please be sure to come back and click on your favorite three posts (or up to three posts).

How to Heal 
If your victim is small, weak and annoying, a sharp strike should suffice nicely.  Think empty paper towel roll, stray sneaker or cast off copy of Cosmo. 

For a more stubborn object, it helps to cut it in half with something sharp, exposing the softer inside before applying rapid taps of a pestle.  The vitamin, reduced to powder, added to my daughter’s strawberry smoothie. “Pinkmyfavoritecolor!” Her smile is expected; it unmakes me still. 

If your aim is to disfigure, and you are of a patient disposition, the slow turning of a screw, mechanized by relentless teasing, petty cruelties, missed opportunities for praise and bonding and outright rejection over the course of thirty-five years or so can do the trick quite nicely; the tired cliche of a truncated childhood. 

Sometimes, though, the pain is acute. “Oh honey, I’m so sorry, I didn’t see your fingers, I should have paid closer attention, I shouldn’t have closed the drawer so fast.” Her hands clenched together above my shoulders. My esophagus is flattened, but I welcome it.

And then the crush feels more like a melt. “It’s okay, mommy...,” her little girl voice, staccatoed by sobs, “you didn’t... mean it... it’s not... your fault.”



The challenge:
This week's word is:
CRUSH (transitive verb)
1a : to squeeze or force by pressure so as to alter or destroy structure <crush grapes>
b : to squeeze together into a mass
2 : hug, embrace
3 : to reduce to particles by pounding or grinding <crush rock>

Please remember:
Your response must be between 33 and 333 words.
You must use the 3rd definition of the given word in your post.
The word itself needs to be included in your response.
You may not use a variation of the word; it needs to be exactly as stated above.
Only one entry per writer.