Category: Prose

Anticipating Ms. Autumn

On By Lauren Scott, AuthorIn Poetry, Prose, Recordings89 Comments

Happy September! I welcome the new season upon us in a few weeks with wide open arms! This summer has been stressful, and much too hot for too many consecutive days. So, cooler temps, come our way!
And on that note, Ms. Autumn has something to say…

I am not bashful. In fact, I tell it like it is, and I am thrilled that my cue for moving into your lives is coming up around the corner! In quiet moments, I reminisce on the good times when you express your oohs and aahs as I make my entrance. How I gracefully arrive donning pomegranate reds, cinnamon browns, and citrine yellows. Energy buzzes like a walk on the red carpet – a highly anticipated moment, so I have heard.

My sweet fragrance beautifies a stroll around the neighborhood. My cool touch refreshes, replacing summer’s harsh existence. And I am aware that Mr. Summer’s mood this year has been exceptionally unsympathetic toward you, my humans whom I adore!

Now regarding my work, I labor with patience and diligence – brush in hand and paint by my side to create a vibrant landscape. Lovely memories as vivid as the colors of my wardrobe…
memories of yesteryear before Mr. Raging Fire barged in, disrupting the balance of the nature of seasons.

Now, each year, a sense of dread crushes that sought-after anticipation of my arrival. And yet, defeat has not prevailed. This new reality only advises that my effort must toughen up…paint and brush lie in wait at my fingertips. The artist deep within will continue to create for you who appreciate the very essence of me.

© Lauren Scott, Baydreamerwrites.com – All rights reserved.

❤️💜💙🩵🧡

Veins

On By Lauren Scott, AuthorIn Poetry, Prose52 Comments

How did naiveté slide into her veins? Why were those vessels so accommodating? She had listened intently to his persuasive syllables as they rolled like a lover’s ballad carried on summer’s breeze. They purported to express his love and devotion to her. Hence, the cadence of her heartbeat simulated gentle ocean waves ebbing and flowing beneath a robin egg blue sky. Her mind fuzzy like a delicious wine buzz because that’s what the power of love is capable of, mesmerizing her before his promises landed hard in the branches of the trees, stabbed in retaliation.

How did naiveté leech into her blood transforming its crimson red to a faded replica of weakness? The mirror hanging on the back of her door exposes a reflection of despair, unrecognizable. Yet, she understands the breadth of her situation, but when will the difference between humanity and an arresting performance reveal itself? When will the language flow like a lover’s ballad on summer’s breeze embracing her with warmth and security of compassion and honesty? Or is this simply a dream so far-removed from her reach?

Time mystifies, but with its magical means, her mind has awakened to reality. She releases a sigh of relief, realizing her heart is devoid of fissures. Never again will she place her golden treasure in danger of breaking. She has rid his presence from her precious sunrises. The panacea was inside her all along – a shifting from low self-esteem to self-assurance, an enlightening altering of what she desires for her tomorrows.

The longing in her soul pulses to witness butterflies flutter by again, and deer casually stroll down her street. To witness hummingbirds seeking out soft petals, evoking memories of her beloved mother. It’s not as though butterflies never visited her garden, or deer never strolled by her home, and it’s not like hummingbirds avoided visiting for a sip from her pink geraniums. She just never permitted herself to observe the beauty because her heart became preoccupied, and he was undeserving of its loyalty, frequently opining his needs and unconcerned with hers.   

But now she shows great sagacity in making changes after declaring to her reflection in the mirror of what life offers. All she needs to do is invite life in. So, let the chirp of birds echo – delightful sounds of joy outside her window – and let deer stroll in their graceful manners. Let the wind blow, the mountains call, and the waterfalls fall, because blood in her veins now flows rich crimson red!

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© Lauren Scott, Baydreamerwrites.com – All rights reserved.

Thank you for stopping by, and I wish you a terrific weekend!❤️



The Blue Down Jacket

On By Lauren Scott, AuthorIn Poetry, Prose85 Comments

The radio belted out “Joy to the World!”
You were a teenage boy, but on this
Christmas morning in ‘75, excitement
buzzed! Your dad watched and listened,
relaxed in his corner chair, but your mom
played Santa, just as jolly! The first time
we met. Do you remember?

You and your dad hiked Half Dome that year,
then…the many trips we booked…
those rocky inclines had my sleeves shaking!
Hiking to Italy Pass, 12,000 feet at the top!
We did it! Trekking through the Trinity Alps,
Thousand Island Lake in the Sierra.
And Mount Shasta!
I kept you warm when the air was ice.

What a team we made, and I couldn’t believe
how beautiful the world could be…

Then with the years your adolescence faded like
my blue dye, but I stayed loyal. Why wouldn’t I?
You are my brother, even still, all grown up
with a family of your own.

Lucky is what I feel because ages ago, I thought
I’d be buried beneath piles of clothes at the bottom
of a bag to be given away.
But mostly, I feel privileged for my significance.
I recall her vividly.
She left this world too young, too soon.

You see, when we hang out,
your memories transport you
to that morning when her laughter was music,
her smile was sunlight,
her energy as vibrant as “Joy to the World.”
You travel to the special place in your mind
when your mom was still in your life.

© Lauren Scott, Baydreamerwrites.com – All rights reserved.
My husband’s loyal blue down jacket. ❤️

The Trio

On By Lauren Scott, AuthorIn Prose, Writing58 Comments

An icy gust shadows him around the corner grazing his earlobe, cold chills ripple down his spine. But his Italian wool threads not only portray prosperity, but they also combat the frosty temperature while he slides onto black leather behind the wheel. Success sits in his suit pocket, having propelled him to the top rung of the corporate ladder. He accelerates in the Night Blue Porsche. A satisfied smile forms because he knows his arrival is highly anticipated.

Down the street, she walks in her own bubble, and it’s as though she controls that gust, tamping it down to a gentle breeze. Her silver heels click on the sidewalk as she moves effortlessly. With cell on speaker, passersby become privileged to thrilling updates, and then she adds, “Have you heard the latest?” But gentle breeze be gone, she buttons up her long, wine-red coat, tightening the belt as the roaring wind wraps around her like a python. When the hailed driver meets the curb, she smugly skims over the back seat, phone chat undisturbed.

And across the way, huddled against a weathered building, he daydreams of warmth, the wind chill forcing its way through his tattered jacket – he fantasizes about lying beneath layers of fleece and wool, comfort permeating from his shaggy long brown hair to his olive-green socks full of holes. But no complaints slip through his chattering teeth. Homelessness may be his current address; however, sadness will never be his default emotion. Instead, his eyes watch as his mind formulates hope.

© Lauren Scott, baydreamerwrites – All rights reserved.
Photo: Pixabay
A repost/revision.

The Friends We Meet in Unexpected Places

On By Lauren Scott, AuthorIn Prose, Writing28 Comments

We spotted him on the still water, appearing to be content resting on the surface smooth as satin, even posing for a few photos as I clicked away. Although I’d say he was a bit camera shy with his backside facing us! Even so, we thanked our quiet, and seemingly, curious friend, watching us intently, turning his neck now and then to get a better look. And while no feathered company was in sight, we didn’t think he was lonely, choosing to be in this stunningly beautiful place for a purpose without distractions. Perhaps he was standing guard, protecting his mate nearby. Or pondering where his journey might take him next. So, by respecting his privacy, we gently stepped away, hiking in the opposite direction. Later in the afternoon, following a dip in the lake, we sat back in our chairs, the calm water mesmerizing us into a wonderful repose. And there he was again, our new friend gliding by but pausing when he saw us – most likely with perfect intention to visit so that he could say goodbye before heading to his next destination.
Isn’t it special, the friends we meet in unexpected places?

Lauren Scott ©

Thank you for stopping by to read this story about the wonders of nature, and by the way, I have ventured into the world of Instagram @baydreamerwrites.

https://www.instagram.com/baydreamerwrites/

and created a new Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/BaydreamerWrites.

So, if you would like to connect on these platforms as well, click on the links above. It would be great to see you on these social media networks.

Have a wonderful day!
Lauren ❤️

A Plea

On By Lauren Scott, AuthorIn Poetry, Prose40 Comments

I remember our conversation, effort to
calm emotions, phone glued to ear like
a natural extension. Her voice, exhausted…
“When will this be over?” She asked Dad
days later, more like a plea. He could be
gentle or travel the path of honesty. I don’t
know the words he pulled from his language
of a sixty-seven-year love…how he tiptoed
through the reply, though tenderly, I imagine,
since his heart was shattering into millions
of minute fragments. Her time was close.
Our awareness vigilant. Each day, another
breath held until the hands of time would
pause. Then as quickly as the sun fades
behind rolling hills, raindrops splash upon us.
She had ascended. Moments of memories
to follow. But not one day passes without
celebrating her life. Not one day slips by
without her knowing how much she is
loved and missed.

Lauren Scott (c)
Mom would be 101 today,
and since she loved her roses,
we dedicate this beauty for her. ❤️

In the Company of Redwoods

On By Lauren Scott, AuthorIn Personal Stories, Prose33 Comments

It felt like walking back in time, strolling around the loop in the park flanked by redwoods, families laughing and holding dialogue over a barbecue burger lunch. The aroma tickling our noses. Opened bags of chips and containers of various salads on the table ready for serving. Grandma shuffles across the street, both hands gripping her walker. Grandpa right beside her, his hand resting on her lower back. Deep, long-lasting love in his eyes. Parents play badminton with their children – a portrait of entertainment at its finest. Our stroll takes us to the bridge where we pause for a few minutes. Leaning against the rail, we see young girls and boys splashing in the creek, laughter whirling around in the warm June air. The sound, musical and magical. Redwoods stand tall in their regal manner, providing shade from the scorching rays of the golden ball in the bright cerulean sky.

A week has passed since extreme high temperatures inundated our area – no air conditioning, felt like we were simply existing, wiping sweat from our faces, zapped of all energy, fans at arm’s reach. So, a day among the Redwoods sounded ideal for a cool breather. Our stroll continues past the inviting, glistening creek where we spot poison oak on the side of the road, but we don’t touch. No desire to itch. A Western tiger swallowtail with its black tiger stripes and pretty pale-yellow wings joins us, flying around my husband then me, as if wanting to listen in on our conversation.

Campgrounds on our right display tents in all sizes and colors of blue, red, orange, and lime green. Kids of varied ages play games at a picnic table, a far cry from fingers flying across a keyboard. The delightful scene transports me to my childhood at our cabin on the corner, playing Yahtzee, or the classic Go Fish and Crazy Eights with my parents and sisters. A breeze whirls around us – we want to capture it with our bare hands, bottle it for when the house is sauna hot. A few dogs trot beside their owners, our dog mirrors them, happy to be outside with an abundance of stimulation: smells, people, children, food! His nose in overdrive!

We wind down the road, then make a U-turn. Reaching our picnic table, our stomachs begin to rumble, so my husband pulls out the Reuben sandwich for us to split – haven’t indulged in a Reuben in a hundred years, with orzo and tabbouleh salads for sides. What a feast. What a beautiful day in the company of the majestic Redwoods. His Deschutes IPA and my sangria tap. Cheers to 34 years ago on this day when he asked me that timeless question and I said, “Yes.”

Lauren Scott (c)

The Sweetness in Life

On By Lauren Scott, AuthorIn Poetry, Prose38 Comments

If we listed in longhand the number of sweet things in life, our lists would be never-ending. We’d write constantly, the pen would never get a rest, the amount of paper we’d need would be extensive, and our hand would begin to scream from exhaustion. Well, I haven’t been writing forever, and you know I’m typing this post, but here are a few sweet things that come to mind, and I hope we never take our lists for granted…
Swimming in a sparkling lake that soothes the body from scorching heat and sweat of the day, reading a book you can’t put down – a real page-turner that interrupts chores, walking beneath a cerulean sky, hiking on a mountain top hearing birds practicing their choral selection sitting high in the tall trees and those sky-scraping trees shading your path, listening to the joyful giggles of children, observing in awe a star-filled night, touching soft, tiny feet of a baby who smiles back at you, witnessing your children’s triumphs, knowing someone gets you, that first fall into love, whispers of a warm, summer breeze, viewing graceful butterflies in flight, new vivid blooms in springtime, unexpected acts of kindness, answered prayers, writing down those thoughts, a hummingbird flitting about, melodies that comfort the heart and mind, and melodies that get you on your feet and make you wanna dance, a creamy chocolate indulgence, and a tender, slow kiss on the lips…truly the icing on the cake.

Lauren Scott (c) ❤️
My son made this carrot cake, my favorite dessert of all,
and believe me, it was divine!
Carrot cake is also the topic of a fun
and sentimental story
in my book, More than Coffee.