Day 1-Outside My Window

I used to write like my life depended on it…then life got in the way. At the encouragement of my husband, my mother and my boss, I have decided to get back in the swing of things and write everyday for a year. I have carved out 15 minutes a day to get started. It is my hope that I can stick to my plan and achieve my goal of simply writing again, and writing well. I have 365 writing prompts ready to go…if you follow along this journey with me I appreciate your feedback and inspiration along the way. -N

Outside my window life is moving as though the world is not crumbling.

Outside my window it’s easy to pretend. Pretending can change your perspective, they say. I have always been stubborn and believe my perspective doesn’t need any changing.

Outside my window the birds are chirping. One of my tiniest joys, the birds sing even while the world is crumbling. Birds are singing when bombs go off in Afghanistan and no one stands shouting in the name of love and peace. Birds are singing when young brown men are assassinated in the streets that raised them and called them their own.

Outside my window the sun is shining. Forever grateful for the wash of bright light and the clean feeling of hope that sunshine can give. There’s a lump in my throat even as I smile at the sun. I believe in healing. I believe in what cannot be seen.

Outside my window an American flag blows in the breeze. My insides churn as I wrestle with what I know America to be and what I wish it was…there aren’t enough of us to combat the America we know these days. There aren’t enough of us. There just isn’t enough.



Skin white as winter, hard to reach.

Crystals nestled under the bed of her nails.

A cry buried. Waiting. A scream so necessary yet she simply cannot fix her mouth to make a noise.

If I touch you, will you break? Shattered. Among the rubble, the ruin…winter.

Strewn about, perplexed by Beauty. Light.

Free. It’s Yours.

Take this. Your grimace confirms your worth.

Again, waiting ever so patiently. Cold piling up all around.

Cold in numbers reminiscent of grains of sand in a desert so vast…one cannot see, winter.

Gil told you about winter. In America. How can it be so cold?

America. The healers have gone.

Your grimace confirms your worth.