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Invitations

The tall stemmed crystal glass I carry in my hand sings when my silver ring makes contact. Moss on the driveway clings to the soles of my bare feet. The paint on the walls of the house invites me to blend in, enquires if I could possibly add another tint, a deeper hue. Everywhere I look there is an invitation of sorts.

My email announces that I will be part of an upcoming anthology, published in early December with the Christmas market in mind. I am more than pleased. My fingers paint the keyboard bright yellow with my response. Thank you very much, I write. I am happy to learn of this. The dogs too answer my request when I invite them in an especially softened voice to come to me, they too respond and run to me full of expectation, awaiting a caress or a small treat, a tiny biscuit in the shape of a bone that they munch down with deep satisfaction. My son hears of a friend of his who has had surgery on his hip. Let's buy him some chocolates, I say and a card, a funny get well card to cheer him up. We do. The card says, ''an apple a day keeps the doctor away'' and shows a kid throwing an apple at the doctor as he runs out the door. Clever. My son leaves his mark and his invitation to mankind when he rings the doorbell of the boys house. The Dad asks him in. I watch from the car, proud of my son, fourteen but aware. When he comes out, he says, the Mom wants me to come for dinner soon. Good, I say, that's nice, and it's so nice that you care for others. These  are surely more marks on the canvas, more strokes of a life properly lived or what, aspired to? The vast array of colours that blend, the delicate swirls  and meshing of existence. It is a reaching out. A soft touch on the upturned shoulder. A song that you hear on the radio that immediately irons you. A word of care. A word that says all. All is now, now is life, life is now. Reaching out and into it, digging down and feeling it. And life.  Life is fragile. Achingly fragile, like the glass I hold in my hand, yes, beautiful to behold,a work of art  but very very  temporary. All it takes is one wrong step and it is bound to be shattered.

Comments
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Mary, this lifted my spirits

Mary, this lifted my spirits today. You being published in a Christmas anthology. I guess that should be about people reading and having insights about their own lives. Your texts are fit for that.
Your 14 year-old being a caring teenager. So it is possible. They do exist. :-D , and the metaphor with the glass. I enjoy that material as well, and I suspect for the same reasons as you do: transparency, metamorphosis from the sand, the possibility of becoming a container, and its fragility and temporariness that can, at the same time, be beautiful and hurtful.

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Luciana, yes, that is

Luciana, yes, that is precisely what I mean when I write about Glass. In fact I am a little obsessed with Glass and my play is titled Glass and again it is about transparency and being contained too. Your perception is amazing. Z is a good boy, there is hope, my heart aches sometimes with the beauty of people and alas it breaks too. Thanks for comment L. Mp

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Congratulations on the

Congratulations on the anthology -that's wonderful! it also sounds like you're doing a good job of raising your son - another congrats. ; )

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Thanks D! The anthology

Thanks D! The anthology marks a ten year anniversary of the radio programme I contributed to on a pretty steady basis. Sadly, the programme ends in September. I think it has to do with major cut backs - the radio/broadcasting sector is badly hit by the recession (lack of advertising revenue), or so they say. It was a great space for writers and it seems that more and more submission opportunities are gradully shutting down.

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very sad. it's the same on

very sad. it's the same on this side of the globe too. hopefully, things will pick up again soon.

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Congratulations, Mary! On

Congratulations, Mary! On the inclusion in the anthology and raising such a wonderful son(s).
Blessed be.

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Thanks Jodi! How are you?

Thanks Jodi! How are you? August is passing by quickly enough isn't it. I hope the spirit is well. Hug from Ireland. Mp

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I'm trying to keep

I'm trying to keep busy.
Thanks for the hug!

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Congratulations on the

Congratulations on the anthology, Mary. Mary's Merry Christmas.

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Thanks Ellen, MAREY XMAS!

Thanks Ellen, MAREY XMAS!

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One more congratulations from me....

Isn't it wonderful how thrilling it is to see something you have struggled over accepted into print? What a lovely Christmas present for you. Congrats!

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Thank you Sue! It is extra

Thank you Sue! It is extra nice because I am in good company-some fine writers are featured. Mp