What a wonderful writing prompt we have this week, from InkPaperPen:
Write about a collection. Write about something you or someone you know, collects. Think about the "why" behind the collection - why is it important to collect this particular thing? How does it make the person feel to add another piece to their collection? Is the group of objects there to be seen, to be studied or simply kept together? Write a real life story or a piece of fiction. Wherever the prompt takes you...Keep your post on the short side: up to 500 words OR a 5 minute stream of consciousness exercise. Link your finished piece to the list and begin popping by the other links. Oh, and enjoy!
Beth crossed her hands neatly and rest them on her scrapbook on the table. Outside, the groundsman pruned the roses that edged the pathways. Beth could see Cherie making her way slowly, but adamantly, toward him on her walker. Beth smiled and reminded herself to look out the window again in a few minutes. She enjoyed watching their exchange.
"I'm sorry to keep you waiting, Beth. It's taking me a long time to do my rounds today."
"That's fine, Kathy." Beth beamed with love, because her patience was one of the many little gifts she gave people, and it made her feel good to give to others.
"Henry believes I have his pills mixed up again. It's made a mess of my morning." Kathy winked.
Beth smiled, knowing Henry was really a favorite with all the nurses at Dalkeith Nursing Home. "I guess we're your children."
"I wouldn't go as far as calling you all kids, but some do test me." Kathy chuckled as she rolled her eyes. "Anyway, here's the scissors and the sticky tape you asked for."
Kathy remained, watching over Beth's shoulder. Meticulously, Beth cut out an article from the morning's newspaper and taped it in a fresh page of her scrapbook.
"Who's Mary Wallace?"
"She's one of my children," said Beth. "Mary always wanted to become a judge, and she's finally been appointed. I'd like to think I played a role in helping her achieve this, but I'm proud of her just the same."
"Wow! May I see your scrapbook? Are these your children?" Kathy flipped through the pages of clippings from over the years. "They all seem so happy and successful."
"I'm proud of each and every one of them." Beth smiled and looked at her fingers as she rubbed them in her lap.
"There's about thirty people in this book. Are you... sure they're all your children?"
"Yes." Beth extended her hands so gracefully and with such conviction in her eyes that Kathy returned the scrapbook without question.
"Okay." Kathy smiled distantly, placed a hand on Beth's shoulder, and walked away.
Beth patted the new clipping down flat and closed her book. With a cheeky grin, she read the cover to herself.
Dalkeith High, class of 1975.
Then she remembered something. Beth looked out the window at the groundsman and Cherie, and began to giggle.