Sunday Scribblins..Invitation

You (yes you)
Are Cordially Invited
to visit a new blog.


Barbara’s Travels…let’s get real!
is now appearing on
Typepad.


Designed for the more
business like
serious
REAL
part of
Barbara’s
writing!


The other
side of her brain
on view!


Today!

Barbara’s Travels…let’s get real!

The First Edition of Barbara’s Travels will need to continue it seems. Does that surprise you or me? Not really. I find such joy in the look of this blog. It just appeals to my eye!!! Colorful and unique…a design of my very own, flexible, ever changing and just plain fun.


Barbara’s Travels
…let’s get real! (I am renaming the 2nd Edition) is not at all a duplicate of the 1st Edition. I have renamed it. Why? Well I tried to write a chapter in the Etta (Unnamed Stores) piece on the other blog and it did not work. I found myself sighing! Somehow the Etta Stories belong right here!!! So that is where they will remain…at least for a while longer.

Wasn’t it just serendipitous that Liani over at Sunday Scribblings should choose “Invitation” as the Sunday Scribblings prompt for this week? Did she know that I needed to invite our fellow blogger to come along on the journey. It would appear so.

Invitation

I cannot live in one square box!
I have built a second
different
rectangular!
There is a need to grow
taller and wider.

A story here
An opinion
there.

Look!

b

Note: Here is the Friday fiction I wrote on Get Serious. I am bringing it to it’s real home.

[Fiction] Friday Challenge for September, 19 2008: To Each Her Own

A writing challenge: write for a five minutes without editing. (This was suppose to be about a past love and the challenge came from (Fiction) Friday and is published on Write Anything.

What I have decided to do is publish both the unedited and the edited version on the same page. In this story, a continuing one on my blog, May is the lover and mother of the child. Oona is the respectable “wife” that the husband found to fill that role. The time is the early 20th century and the place is a small town in Eastern Oregon.

To Each Her Own

May could never understand how Oona stayed in that house, raised a child not her own and lived with a man that never ever spoke her full name.

Do you suppose that she doesn’t notice that he never introduces her as his wife? He only said “This is Oona and this is my daughter Anna Helen.” It is never Mrs. or my wife or even, the mother of my child. She lives in that house and doesn’t not have a name, not really. How does she do that?

Well, thought May, To each her own. It did occur to May that she too didn’t have a name or a role as the wife or even the right to be the mother to her own child. Maybe she and Oona were more alike than she thought! The only difference was that May loved the man and Oona did not.

b

Revision:

To Each Her Own

The white house looked lovely in the summer morning light. May loved to stare across the street at the tall Poplars and the neatly trimmed lawn. Oona and Mr. Eriksson had been together for almost 13 summers now. The sun shining on the gleaming windows made May think of how it would have been if she had been the one to live across the street. If Mr. Ericksson had not chosen to be so upright and “Christian”. She would have raised Anna as a daughter and not watched her grow as a niece from across the street. What if?

She could never understand how Oona stayed in that house, raised a child not her own and lived with a man that never ever spoke her full name. She called him “Mr. Eriksson” both in public and in private. They didn’t attend the same church. This little community lived with a blind eye to what the neighbors did and hoped the neighbors would treat them the same. They did not acknowledge that the relationship was…well…different. That puzzled May most of all.

“I realize that I was not raised “fancy”. Still I do know different when I see it. Oona and Mr. Eriksson are very, very unusual.”

May wondered if Oona didn’t notice that she was never introduced as his wife? He only says, “This is Oona and this is my daughter Anna Helen.” It is never Mrs. or my wife or even the mother of my child. She lives in that house and does not have a name, not really.

How does she do that?” flitted through her mind as she leaned a little closer to the glass. “Well, to each her own.”

As she turned from the window into the darkened room it occurred to her. She didn’t have a married name or a role as the wife or even the right to be the mother to her own child. True Mr. Ericksson spent a great deal of time with her but he had not married her. Maybe she and Oona were more alike than she thought! The only difference was that May loved Mr. Ericksson and Oona did not.

b

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