Many people have good memories of their mothers. Some may not. However, it's not many that could say that mothers have no impact on our lives. So, since Mother's Day is this month, I thought a fitting challenge topic for the month of May would be:

May Challenge Theme - Mothers

As always, be creative, and don't be afraid to think outside the box!
And Happy Mother's Day to any moms we may have in our writing community! =)

David L.
Writer's Forum Moderator

I am a mother and a grandmother. My granddaughter Mullaney Rose is amazing! She's almost three. She was born on the summer solstice. When we play outside we're always visited by faeries and see dragons flying by. Tiny faeries ride the bubbles we blow and flower faeries paint our flowers while we sleep at night. My daughter Julieanne, doesn't believe half the tales I tell her about when she was as little as Mullaney. 
  Two weeks ago it was our first really warm day. We went to Douglas State Park and walked along the beach. After hours skipping rocks and putting ONLY our toes in the still cold lake, we decided to eat our picnic. Mullaney was told she could stay by the shore while we set up lunch. I started to chuckle and Julie asked why. I told her Mullaney would be drenched in less than ten minutes, just as she would have been at that age. She said I had let her get away with far too much. I told her that there would be a very good excuse. She didn't believe me. I smiled and handed her a towel. 
  Before we had gotten the sandwiches out of the basket, a dripping Mullaney came pounding up the beach. " Mama! Nana! Mama! Nana! Did you see? Did you see?" she dropped into my waiting lap. " Boy, do you think she's gonna be in trouble Mama?" I asked her with a totally straight face. "What are you talking about?" Julie sat and glared at me. " Nana" she said " Didn't you see the mermaid? She pushed me right in!" She snuggled back against me, turned her angel face toward her mom and asked " Mama, did you see? Are you gonna get her in trouble? She pushed me right in!?"
She bit the inside of her cheek, passed the towel, dug out dry clothes, kissed me on the cheek and asked, with a straight face, "Is that the one who pushed me into Branson's Pond?"  I told her I was pretty sure it might be her granddaughter. After lunch we went to the edge of the lake, but since we were grown ups only Mullaney saw the mermaids, but we all yelled good-by. 
  As we left the parking lot, she wondered out loud if this mermaid's daughter would be around to push Mullaney's daughter in. I winked and told her it was pretty much a sure thing. Since daughters are so much like mothers.

That's a really cute story! Something you said there actually reminds me of something my dad used to tell me (a little ahead of schedule since it's not quite father's day) when I was a kid. When I, ever inquisitive, asked him why the grass was green, he responded quite matter-of-factly that it was the elves that came out at night with green paint and little paint brushes that painted each blade of grass green. I bought into it too, which put my dad in the awkward position of having to explain to my teacher why I insisted in class that she was wrong and it was elves that made the grass green!

Attached Link: Number 7 Chettelham Road

Here is what I came up with.

Number 7 Chettelham Road

Sorry, mom.

~jon

I wrote this for my mum a couple of weeks ago... See the topic here and thought it was the ideal place to post it!
My Mum

♥ ~ ♥ ~ ♥

She is the one
That gave me life

A sister, a nanna

A mum and a wife

~ ♥ ~

But more than all that

A best friend too

If you ever need her

She’ll be there for you

~ ♥ ~

She’ll ask the right questions

Tell you no lies

Be honest and open

Let you see through her eyes

~ ♥ ~

She is so loving

Thoughtful and kind

A better mum

You’d never find

♥ ~ ♥ ~ ♥

*© Meeeee 2007

not sure if i'm still in time to enter but here goes

billy                         ANOTHER MOVE

by

william marsland

 
Wrapped in a smell
of new warm leather

a triggered memory...

holding my hand flat
shielding eye's from
sun's evening glare
 
it reflects
off the pristine chromed bumper
targeting my exposed iris

WOLSLEY/Vanden Plas

metallic lettering
shrouded silver
proud, ominous, climbing
from the buffed perfection
of olive green

a loose skinned
liver spotted hand
mottled, creased
exerts a bony pressure
i hear the mechanism adjust
it smashes into my reality
 
the rear door opens

I climb into
huge, so huge

the cavernous space
engulfs as stitched leather panels
hot to hands and knees
stick and burn bare skin

the door clunks shut behind

in front
two oblivious adults

the radio is switched on
conversation still audible
talk of foster parents
adoption
better life
spoken in whispers

fingering a worn marble
in pants pocket
I turn my face
let cheek
rest against smooth tanned hide
breathe deep
and expel a silent sob