The Blue Cap

She wears a dark blue raincoat on this cloudy day, and a lighter blue cap, something out of the sixties. I can imagine her then, a young woman, wearing one to a party, dazzling with her golden hair and brilliant smile, charming them all.

Now her hair is white. And white tennis shoes. Always the white shoes.

And alone. Always alone. Except for the dog.

Her dog is smallish and also white, like most of the dogs in this community. For some reason, they are the canine of choice, maybe because they don’t eat much or fit just so on an eighty-year old lap.

As she walks, she sways side to side. Maybe her hips don’t work as they used to or she is shielding her knees. Still she walks. Twice a day. Every day. At a good pace relatively. Holding tight to the leash. As though something about it keeps her upright.

I walk past her and smile, saying Good Afternoon. She doesn’t seem to recognize me, though we have passed a few times before. Her face brightens and she smiles, but she doesn’t speak back. Unused now to speaking to anyone, except her children on the phone every few weeks.

She is alone. Always alone. Except for the dog, who is now the beneficiary of all the love and care she has stored up since her husband passed.

So she walks every day. Rain or shine. In peril of falling every step it seems to me. I worry for her.

She is alone. Yet there are many like her here in this community. She passes them every day. They have never spoken yet they know each other.

As she passes me, I turn and watch for a second.

Maybe this is not her story. Maybe she has a family close to her, who visit most days, like my next door neighbor. Maybe her husband does the laundry and she walks the dog for exercise. I don’t really know.

But as I imagine her, she is a reminder.

And a warning.

And an inspiration.

I will find my blue cap.

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When Your Dreams Put On Work Clothes

   

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A year ago today we set sail, a varied collective of writers who find inspiration for living and writing in community...

It's been a great adventure so far...!  

 

 

 

The reason for evil in the world is that people are not able to tell their stories.
Carl Gustav Jung

 

Tell the readers a story! Because without a story, you are merely using words to prove you can string them together in logical sentences.
Anne McCaffrey

 

Writing gives you the illusion of control, and then you realize it's just an illusion, that people are going to bring their own stuff into it.
David Sedaris

 

No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader.
Robert Frost

 

Remember: when people tell you something's wrong or doesn't work, they are almost always right. When they tell you exactly what's wrong and how to fix it, they are almost always wrong.
Neil Gaiman

 

A critic is a man who knows the way but can't drive the car.
Kenneth Tynan

 

Motivation is when your dreams put on work clothes.
Benjamin Franklin

 

I have written - often several times - every word I have ever published.
Vladimir Nabokov

 

The difference between fiction and reality is that fiction has to make sense.
Tom Clancy

 

And, finally, some insights from the practitioners of three different arts who were born on this day, July 7th

 

I can read Middle English stories, Geoffrey Chaucer or Sir Thomas Malory, but once I start moving in the direction of contemporary fantasy, my mind begins to take over.
David Eddings

 

Work isn't to make money. You work to justify life.
Marc Chagall

 

It is strange how one feels drawn forward without knowing at first where one is going.
Gustav Mahler

 

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Here's to the next leg of the voyage...!

 

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Copyright

© Copyright Rosy Cole 2015

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