Today, in honor

Today I hang my flag.

I hang it for everyone. In one way or another, we have all been effected by the tragic events of September 11, 2001.


Today I hang my flag.

I hang it for the innocent who are no longer here.

I hang it for those who were faced with the impossible decision of staying to die or jumping to die.

I hang it for those who sacrificed their life to save another.



Today I hang my flag.

My flag is a symbol of freedom.

My flag is a symbol of unity.

When faced with adversity and tragedy, we will come together.

We will rise above.

We will come out stronger.


Today I hang my flag.

My children will know out of tragedy comes strength, courage, and hope.

The innocent, the heroes, the survivors.

My children know.

We will not forget.




Song inspired by the events of 9/11

Communication is key

Love, friendship, trust, common interests and values. I believe all of those need to be well established before you step into the world of marriage. Once you are married, communication needs to be added to those core values.

Communication is key.

Men are not always good at picking up on our subtle hints. If us ladies want something done or want to go somewhere specific, we must spell it out word for word. I'm not trying to cut men down. Men and women are just wired different.

While I have learned to spell things out word for word, I think my husband needs to take a lesson in letting his wife in on events that happen within our house.

Perfect example.....

After a morning out with a friend, I came home to relax before starting my round 2. I turned on my radio, opened up Gmail, and logged into Facebook. As I'm humming away to the music, I hear a noise. Being home alone, I'm often a little skittish. I turn off the radio and cock my head. Because cocking one's head helps you hear better, right?

I don't hear the noise again so I blame it on the rain. It must be water dripping off the porch roof onto some toy or another the boy left outside.

I turn the radio back on and continue to read my email. I hear it again. Off goes the radio and up I stand, head cocked. A scratching sound. Coming from the kitchen. Close to the fridge.

I jump on chat and frantically type out what I heard to the husband. There is something not human in this house! His reply?

"Mouse me thinks"

Um... what?!

He then goes on to explain that he heard a similar noise the day before as well as that morning.

Um, hi! Cluing me in would have been nice. It is a much better idea to tell your wife about a possible mouse than it is to let her see it run across the kitchen with no prior knowledge of it's existence!

This is not our first experience with a mouse, but it is the first experience with one in our house. That I know of. Obviously we need to work on our communication skills.

I know I'll hold up my end of communicating that the husband is in charge of setting up the traps and disposing of the little bugger should he be caught!

I miss my childhood

I miss my childhood.

The waxy smell of a freshly opened box of crayons. Any color was mine for the choosing.

Bright, cheery yellow

Calm, soothing blue

Make me giggle and smile like the girl I was pink.

I was free to color whatever I wanted, however I wanted. Trees don't always have green leaves when you are 5. Sometimes they can be purple. And, if I was so inclined, I could make the sun orange. It didn't matter if I colored out of the lines. Mom loved my pictures no matter what they looked like. Each and everyone was carefully hung on the fridge with one of Grandma's numerous chicken magnets.


I miss my childhood.

Cookies were baked with Grandma in the weeks leading to Christmas. Flour covered our shirts and the table. Red icing on my cheek from the itch I scratched. While Grandma turned to place the next batch in the oven, I would quietly grab a ball of dough from the next batch to be made.


I miss my childhood.

Endless days playing hide-n-seek or riding bikes from one friend's house to the next. Out all day until the street lights came on.

Countless winter days grumbling while mom bundled me up. Her efforts led to hours of sledding and snowman building. When all 3 layers of pants were wet and I could no longer feel my toes, Mom was always there with hot chocolate in hand.


I miss my childhood.

Crayons have been replaced by pens and keyboards. My work must be precise and I must always, always stay in the lines. Leaves are now green and the sun is always yellow. My work is no longer displayed on the fridge. Instead it is full of lists and reminders.


I miss my childhood.

In the weeks leading to Christmas, my children and I bake. We have icing and sprinkles and flour in our hair. But they must never, ever eat the dough. There are raw eggs in there and we don't want anyone sick. Although I do know they sneak tastes as I once did.


I miss my childhood.

It is too cold for me to go outside. I zip all the zippers and tie both of their scarves. They grumble as I fidget. Are your feet all the way in? Are you mittens on tight?

I watch my children build snow forts as I place one clean shirt onto the pile. They slide down our hill as I try to find a match for yet another sock. I must hurry and finish so I have time to make hot chocolate before they are too cold.


I miss my childhood.



This week’s Write on Edge prompt is to use the image above for your inspiration and begin your post with those words…”I miss my childhood…”

Word limit- 500
My count- 443

Constructive criticism always welcome