“Hold fast to dreams,
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird,
That cannot fly.”
― Langston Hughes
A short piece about hope – and the idea that maybe we aren’t as stupid as we seem.
Alyssa reaches down and squeezes her mother’s hand, so frail and thin compared to the one she remembers from her childhood decades before. “We’ll get through this, okay? You and me. Like always.”
—-Stewart C Baker, Against the Dying of the Light
Mural outside of Sandwich Hag, The Cedars, Dallas, Texas
There is heartbreak and slim hope… and then there is writing about heartbreak and slim hope – which is something altogether different.
Read it here:
from Flash Fiction Online
During all my drinking days, I listened for that music and thought it might be worth continuing to drink just to hear it once more. But, of course, it wasn’t.
—-Robert Garner McBrearty, A Trace of Music
Music at Ciclovia Dallas
Working my knee back with ice, rest and ibuprofen. Yesterday, I rode my spin bike on very light resistance for an hour and today, one week after I slipped coming out of the shower and twisted my knee, I rode my road bike for the first time – five miles around the ‘hood. It was fine – not entirely pain-free, but bearable. Maybe ten miles tomorrow after work (I have to work, I am essential). The nice thing about the road bike is that with my feet clipped in they are held rigid with no lateral flex in my leg or knee. That helps. It’s a bitch getting my shoes on, however.
A day at a time – small improvements – each day a little better than the day before.
Like in today’s story….
Read it here:
from Heart of Flesh Literary Journal
Robert Garner McBrearty Homepage
Bill Chance 