Ann Marie Bryant

Grim

Published on February 4, 2023February 6, 2023 by Ann Marie Bryant2 Comments

As she sat in her usual seat, I watched her. The quick lunch with a glass of Chardonnay, the quilt of drinking and returning to her job, the breath mint to cover any telltale signs.

Adrienne rarely displayed her emotions and lived a private life. She had few friends, and even her closest companions knew little about her past. But I knew everything, her painful struggles, and her losses. Wearily, I watched in fascination as she picked up the pieces of her life, time after time.

As a child, the girl lost her parents at such a young age she could barely remember them. Her parents died in a cross-country skiing accident in Colorado. The avalanche took her parents in an instant, and she soon moved in with her grandmother.

Over the years, she shared a happy life with her Gram. The woman doted on her granddaughter. The time the two spent together was a gift to Adri, and she treasured the grandmother who loved and adored her. Still, another life ended unexpectedly. When Gram passed, she took a piece of Adri’s heart with her.

And my Adri became another young girl locked into a heartless system of bouncing from home to home. Her fragile life became a series of heartache, one catastrophe after another. Then it settled into a life she found tedious and boring, hence the Chardonnay to get her through the afternoon.

A market research analyst sounded exciting on paper; however, the tedious research on women and their needs and wants left her frustrated. Inwardly, she screamed, “We can do better.” It became her daily prayer. She wanted to chuck it all in a world of face creams, the latest body sculpting techniques, diet crazes, how-tos on makeup, and how successful women juggle families and careers. Still, she did have one favorite research topic: the wines of Napa Valley.

Today, after work, she rushed to the corner bar and grill and ordered her classic chef salad with the ranch on the side. From her research, she knew an oak-aged California Chardonnay would pair nicely with her lean meal and ordered accordingly. Next, she pulled her tablet from her Bottegga Veneta, a gift from a client, and continued her research on Lost Alabaster. The shoe giant wanted to know the latest on a woman’s desire for mid-top sneakers. Colors, styles…oh, she sarcastically thought, maybe throw in comfort and support just for fun!

Sighing, she polished her drink and ordered another. She halfway picked at the salad. She pushed her favorite toppings to one side – the tomatoes, the homemade croutons, the pieces of boiled egg, the cubed cheddar, and small slices of grilled chicken. Always a picky eater, she learned to eat what was on her plate from her teenage years. Now she had the luxury to pick and choose, but old habits died hard. Three bites of the Romaine, one bite of cheddar, followed by the chicken. Three bites of Romaine, two bites of the croutons, after all, who could resist, followed by a cherry tomato. It would take a third glass to finish her meal.

Sighing, she shoved her plate from her and sipped on her third, or was it a fourth glass of wine? She decided to go with three; the one at lunch did not count. She wondered how her life had become so routine and uneventful.

After her Gram died, she lived in a series of foster homes. While living in these shelters, coping skills kept her going. Strange eating habits, listening to music on headphones to drown out the sounds of “family.” Keeping emotions in check. Applying herself in school maintained a steady stream of excuses to stay away from her current dwelling. That’s probably how she became involved in market research. In foster homes, wifi and cell phones were a luxury she lacked. Adri didn’t mind; it gave her the necessary pretext to stay away from the life she abhorred. She spent hours at the library researching school projects on various history, English, and Science topics. She liked the distraction that kept her from dealing with the missing pieces of her life.

At one home, she almost felt she belonged. Adri trusted her foster mom. Zoe tried to make her feel welcome. She never lied to her and even told her the truth. Money was tight, and she needed a roommate, ergo Adri. The two grew close, almost like sisters. One weekend the two binge-watched the entire series of Charmed and ate Ben and Jerry’s straight from the carton. Zoe was a faithful friend who ensured she had wifi for school, clean clothes, and decent meals, well, most of the time, anyway. She allowed Adri to bring home friends and talked to her about boys and birth control. At last, Adri felt she could actually inhale and breathe.

I was at her school the day when her social worker, Ana, arrived. The woman took her to the counselor’s office and methodically and rather coldly told her that Zoe had died on I-80 earlier that morning. The foster mom had been the victim of road rage, and while the shot was not meant for her, she had unknowingly driven into the line of fire. The shooter fled the scene in a silver Volvo or was it a Hyundai? No one glimpsed the driver’s face. Hell, no one even knew if the driver were female or male. Safe to say the shooter was still at large.

That night Adri slept in her first group home, the Kinship House. Two nights later, she woke to a frenzy of wails and screams. One girl in the dorm had slit her wrists and was rushed to the emergency room by ambulance. I watched as that girl recovered, and the girls at Kinship House did not.

A week later, against Adri’s wishes, Ana found her a new placement. A tired couple with grown children took the bewildered girl into their home. Adri’s latest family included two foster siblings, a 14-year-old boy named Isaak and a 12-year-old girl named Nevaeh.

“I saved the lower bunk for you,” Nevaeh gushed.

“Whatever,” sighed Adri as she hopped into the sanctity of the upper bunk. She slipped on her earphones and blasted some Wolf Alice:

She needs a lover to escape her father and mother

She hopes for some other way out of the hole

She’s overachieving, chasing her dreams

And coming down slowly, yeah, it’s out of control

I watched as she navigated life at the Clay residence. It was tolerable as long as she was home by curfew and did not complain about the endless stream of boxed mac and cheese. Still, East Oakland was not the safest place. After Isaak was knifed, the Oakland Tribune rushed an article about foster homes and safety. Social workers scrambled to find new homes for the children. Nevaeh went to a house somewhere in Eureka, Isaak to Stockton, and Adri landed with a young couple in Sausalito.

The Canes were kind, but Adri kept them and everyone else in her life at a distance. Senior year stay on the path – apply for scholarships – no distractions – no commitments – no attachments – no more deadly situations. Did death really seem to follow her?

College at UC Berkley came and went. But, after a brief affair with a married college professor, Adri stayed on course with her mantra of zero involvement.

After college, her business management degree landed her a place with Samuel, Inc. near North Point in San Franciso. Thus, her life of endless tedious research. “Life,” she laughed, could not become any more dreary.

On her days off, Adri made the most of her time. She decorated her apartment on Pierce. On the weekends, she rode her bike along the Presidio or visited the galleries or the Japanese Tea Garden in Golden Gate Park. San Francisco had really become her home.

But she knew she would eventually have to give it all up if she wanted to remain semi-sane. Her research gig paid the bills for her lifestyle, the apartment, the clothes, and the weekends in Napa, but she knew she would have to find another job soon. Life was too short to work from nine to whatever and chase after the empty ads of false promises and dreams.

One day after scanning work sites, she read a job ad that caught her eye.

Save our planet!

Wanted: Research Assistant for an upcoming global sustainable company. Pay

negotiable. Nice perks. Interested?

650-523-1900.

She scanned the requirements and knew a pay cut would be in order for any save-the-world type of employment, but she sent in her resume anyway. Two days later, she received a call from the owner. It really was new and upcoming. His office was in a spare bedroom in his North Point apartment. Still, she agreed to meet him, not at his apartment but at a nearby pub. Her meeting was in two days.

Although she was nervous about the new prospect, she was also excited. I noticed she smiled a little more for the first time in a while. She laughed a little more and drank slightly less wine. I hoped the tide had turned.

The night before her interview, Adri unexpectedly had to work late. As she finished her menial tasks, she couldn’t wait to leave. She wanted to get home, kick off her shoes, and sip on her favorite Zinfendal from the valley, another gift from a client.

After calling for a ride, she slipped on her Versace Sneakers and a light Moncler jacket. It had been a long day, heels were out, and it was dark; she laughed. Who would know? Grabbing her tote, she headed out of the office and took the stairs, not waiting for the elevator.

Once on the street, she lingered in front of the building for her ride. Watching from across the street, I smiled. Adri looked happy. Tomorrow was her interview, and I hoped her life would become more enjoyable for the young woman that had known so much heartache. Whistling, I walked to the corner, for I was still on the clock. This old soul enjoyed walking the streets of North Point in the evenings, something Adri and I had in common.

Suddenly, I had been summoned. “Oh no! Oh no! Oh no!” I cried. I recognized the address. At full speed, I rushed to my next destination, and as I feared, Adri sprawled on the sidewalk. People were screaming; others called 911. A woman sat on the cold walk with Adri’s head in her lap. She uselessly pleaded with my girl to stay with her. But the bullet from the driveby found its mark. Senseless slaughter.

Taking Adri’s hand, the young woman looked up at me and asked, “Do I know you?’

I smiled, “No, not really. We never formally met, but I have wandered in your life from time to time and marveled at your persistence to make it in your world.”

She gazed up at me, rightfully confused.

“Let me explain,” I continued. “I first met you when your parents passed. The next time we crossed paths was when Gram and Zoe died, a terrible tragedy. Then I was summoned twice again, once when the girl from Kinship House slit her wrists and again when Issak was stabbed. Thankfully, the two survived.”

I nervously laughed before I continued. “My career is rather bleak. I am summoned all hours of the day and night. I find my client and leave. After some time, you caught my attention; you were often present at my appointments. I watched as you mourned for your parents, grandmother, and friend. After those occasions, I watched over you, hoping your life would improve. But then, after the girl from Kinship house and then Issak, I worried. Plus, your job at Samuel was so insanely mortifying.”

I rambled on, “And I will have you know I literally jumped for joy when you called Ron about the new job. You would have loved it!”

Sighing, I hung my head before I continued. “I was warned about getting attached to the people left behind, but here I am, my dear, mourning you like I would my own child if I were allowed to be a father.”

“Wait!” She screamed. “Am I…am I”

“Dead?” He finished for her. “Yes, my child, I am afraid so.”

Writing Prompt:

For today’s prompt, write from the perspective of a guardian angel. Whether that’s a supernatural being or just an angel on Earth, let your creativity soar!

Photo by Yomex Owo on Unsplash

Lazy Bones

Published on February 2, 2023 by Ann Marie Bryant2 Comments

Burrowed beneath the many layers of blankets, the pair sleeps. The frosty morning surrounds the room, and a chill lingers. Earlier, one braved the cold for a fire in the woodstove pops and crackles, and the aroma of brewing coffee fills the morning air. As footsteps approach the room, a nose peeks from under the covers and then another. Mama laughs and calls, “Wake up, you two lazy bones.”

The two shake off the covers in anticipation. They know Mama has brought them breakfast in bed. Mitzi yawns, and Max smiles. Always the gentleman, Max waits for his sister to be served first. After a long slumber, the starved siblings gulp down their morning treat. After eating, Mitzi quickly scrambles beneath the covers once more. Max follows, but first, he gives his Mama a quick kiss on the cheek.

Laughing, the woman never imagined she would one day be waiting on two spoiled babies while serving them breakfast in bed. “Oh, the life of a Doxie mom,” she tells herself. But, of course, no one listens to her declaration. Her furbabies are already dreaming about chasing rabbits and wondering what mama will serve for lunch.

Writing Prompt:

For today’s prompt, write about a lazy weekend morning. Maybe it’s one that stays lazy or one that gets interrupted by something surprising.

Photo by Klara Kulikova on Unsplash

Annie’s Song

Published on February 1, 2023December 6, 2025 by Ann Marie Bryant2 Comments

In the spaces between our busy lives, we found love in fleeting, precious moments. John’s work kept him traveling across the country, sometimes around the world. It wasn’t ideal, but his job was important to him, and I reminded myself that I had known this when I married him. Still, I missed him fiercely when he was away.

That evening, he slipped into bed late, weary from his travels, and drew me close. “Annie, my love, I just want to hear your laughter and stay in your arms,” he whispered, enfolding me against his chest.

I smiled and nodded in agreement as I pushed in closer to his side of the bed, savoring the warmth of his body.

“I wish I could always be with you. This job demands too much of my time. We need this week away.”

His work was demanding, but he always made up for lost time. Drowsy, I let my mind drift to our past escapes together. The last trip, we had fled to a cabin in the mountains in spring, nestled among towering pines. We slept together in a hammock beneath a blanket of stars, breathing in the scent of blue spruce and lodgepole pine. I remembered our spontaneous dance in the rain, splashing in puddles like carefree children, so in love that the world seemed to shrink around us.

Each journey we took left an indelible mark on our hearts; love laced to the regions we visited, each place gifting us its flavor, a token of its beauty.

“Where are you taking me this time?” I questioned playfully

“A surprise, my love, a surprise.”

It didn’t matter. John could take me to the moon, and I would be happy. He always surpassed my expectations, filling me with a love that reached deep into my marrow.

Before we drifted to sleep, he whispered, “Do you remember the storm in Sedona?”

I smiled, recalling the silver flashes cutting through the desert sunset. Thunder rolled like a symphony, and rain misted beneath the pergola, caressing our bare arms and legs as we shivered in the desert heat.

“Or the sleepy ocean at Assateague Island with wild horses roaming the beaches?” I murmured in return

He laughed, ‘You were smitten with the blue of the sea and the splendor of the wild mustangs. Two of your favorite things.”

“You do know how much you mean to me, right?” He earnestly questioned.

“Tell me,” I whispered.

Brushing the hair from my face, he traced my lips with his fingers. “I would give my life to you. I long to drown in your laughter. I want to always be with you.”

Life with my love was an adventure—an intimate voyage traced in breath, laughter, and the secret currents that moved between us. As he murmured his tribute, I quieted him with the softest touch. ‘Shh,’ I whispered, drawing him into the sanctuary of my arms. ‘Come… let me love you.’

The night unfurled around us like silk, gathering us into its dark, shimmering hush until the world dissolved at its edges. And in that drifting, where desire and tenderness wove themselves into something almost sacred, I understood: the heart of a partnership is not simply in the moments we share, but in the way we surrender to them together—choosing, again and again, to meet each other where wonder lives

Photo by Anne Zwagers on Unsplash

Writing prompt:

For today’s prompt, write a story inspired by a favorite song. This could be an old song you still love, a new one you can’t get out of your head, or maybe a song your characters can’t get away from. The choice is yours!

Resistance by Jennifer A. Nielsen-Thrills and Chills

Published on January 30, 2023January 30, 2023 by Ann Marie Bryant4 Comments

“Let us be foolish, then, because if we can save even one life, we are the best of fools.“
Chaya Lindner

So. have you ever been so engrossed in a book that you stayed up until dawn began its morning glow? Well, Resistance is that book! And thank goodness for coffee! That day, I gulped down coffee to stay focused in my middle school classroom! And, of course, my students laughed at me when they discovered the truth about my teaching slump that day! Talk about a book endorsement!

Recently, I read the book Resistance by Jennifer A. Nielsen. As a middle school teacher, I wanted to find a book on historical fiction about the Holocaust. This book did not disappoint! I have included this book in my classroom library, for it is an excellent addition to teaching my unit on the Holocaust.

Jennifer A. Nielsen, a noteworthy writer, grew up in Northern Utah. She began her writing journey while in elementary school. Over the years, her love of writing grew into a career. To date, her books have been translated into over 21 languages.

She focused on young adult novels with her books, but I must maintain that this teacher was riveted and glued to her seat as she read this novel. Her characters came alive. I could not put down this action-packed book, for I wanted to find out what happened next to the protagonist, Chaya Lindner, a courier for a Jewish Resistance group known as Akiva. Throughout the story, I quietly cheered her on as she made her daring entries and escapes in the ravaged Polish ghettos during WW2.

RESISTANCE by Jennifer A. Nielsen

Jennifer wove a tale of historical fiction about the Holocaust. It was set in Poland before the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising. It included historical figures from the actual resistance movement. The characters were believable and well-rounded. Their stories added perspective to the historical tragedy and fighting spirit of the Jewish people who lived through the Holocaust.

The research and accuracy of this time were reflected throughout her story. Her attention to detail surfaced throughout her novel. Her depiction of the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising kept me on edge as this nailbiter heaped on the action. I would recommend this book to teens and adults alike. It always jolted and astounded with its thrilling escapades and adventures. Moreover, readers will be encouraged by Chaya’s strength, courage, and determination to help her people.

Resistance by Jennifer A. Nielsen | Scholastic Fall 2018 Online Preview

Winning the Lottery

Published on January 30, 2023 by Ann Marie BryantLeave a comment

What would you do if you won the lottery?

If I won the lottery, I would do all the normal things that I know I should do. I would help family and friends and set aside money to help those down on their luck. But the one thing I know I would do in a heartbeat would be to find a mountain cabin among pine trees and aspens in the Colorado mountains.

For me, there is just something magical when spending time in nature. I love the smell of mountain pines on a crisp morning. I enjoy setting on a porch, drinking my coffee, and watching hummingbirds flit about their feeders and chipmunks scurry about looking for food to store. I love hearing breaking twigs and crunching leaves, knowing that when I look up, I will view mule deer walking slowly in the distance, ever alert of their surroundings.

Relaxing in the mountains offers a quiet peace and restores the soul. So until I win the lottery, I will be content taking my mountain getaways and dreaming of a time when I can call a piece of the Rocky Mountains home.

The Promise

Published on January 26, 2023January 30, 2023 by Ann Marie Bryant2 Comments

After checking into the Coral Reef Inn, Jessie decided to grab lunch. The excited woman could not wait to explore all the local haunts she frequented when she was younger. After checking Google, the hungry lady decided on Pier 29 on Ballena Bay. She loved the little isle It was the perfect place to stretch her legs after her flight.

The young woman had flown out for her ten year class reunion. She could not wait to see her old high school friends. She knew Jenn and Trish would be there. Both still lived on the island. Jenn taught math at their rival high school. Jenn married her college sweetheart, Ryan, and the two lived in a painted lady on Santa Clara. Trish remained happily single and worked for a law firm in San Fransico. She lived in a little one-bedroom cottage behind her parent’s massive Victorian home on the east side.

Of course, Jessi could have stayed with her childhood friends, but Jenn and Ryan were renovating their home with two children, two-year-old Spencer and five-year-old Haley. She laughed and told Jenn, “I love you, but I think I will skip the chaos.”

“Wise move. Make sure you get a room with two queen-sized beds. I may just crash with you this week!” Jenn laughed.

Trish offered her the pullout couch, but Jess knew her friend’s place would be littered with law books and case notes as she often took her work home. Trish chuckled when Jess declined. “I know, just say it. I am still a mess.”

“But you’re a lovely mess, my dear friend.” Jess honestly told her friend.

The trio would meet later for drinks and catch up on all the latest news. In the meantime, Jess wanted to explore. After finishing her shrimp and veggie salad, Jess sipped on her Pinot Blanc. She sat on the patio facing the marina. She could smell the saltiness in the air. The seagulls cried as they flew towards the shoreline. In the distance, the San Francisco skyline loomed across the bay. The sea breeze caressed her bare arms, and it all reminded her of the boy she missed.

In high school, she spent many hours at this marina. She worked part-time for the boatyard for Jonathon’s dad. She answered phones, filed, and helped with the billing. Jonathon. She pictured the tall, lanky teen. He was a year older than her. His long wavy sun-streaked locks reached just below his shoulders. Since he worked at the boatyard with his dad, his tan remained year around. She wondered about his boyish face with the spattering of freckles. Did he still look the same? She still remembered his warm brown eyes with a touch of gold. When he smiled, his eyes smiled too. His face was an open book, and a person could easily discern Jonathon’s current mood with just one glance. She could still picture his emotions: his joy when his dad surprised him with his sailboat, his heartache when his mom died, and his sadness when he discovered she had been accepted into Columbia. Although he tried to cover up his emotions, she witnessed how his pride had changed to sorrow when he realized they would be living on separate coasts.

“It’s only four years. I will be back before you know it. I will come home for holidays and summer breaks,” Jess told her love on that day so long ago.

Jonathon tried to smile, but it did not reach his eyes this time. He pulled Jessi into his warm embrace and softly murmured, “I love you.”

Jessi sighed at the memory. It was the beginning of their ending. She tried to shake off the sudden gloom that overpowered her. Jonathon was in the past, and she needed to focus on her present, like her two best friends she would meet later that night.

That evening, the three women gathered at the Preacher’s Daughter on Park. They ordered three BLTs, and each ordered an adult beverage.

“I am excited about the reunion this weekend,” Jenn told her friends, “I wonder if Danny will be there,” she gushed.

“Jennifer Lynn Andrews! You’re a married woman. Do you still crush on Danny Myers?” Trish scolded.

“Oh, come on. You know Danny was fun to look at. We all had crushes on Danny,” Jenn laughed.

“True,” Trish sighed, and the three women giggled like teenage girls, just like when they were in high school.

The three women adored each other and looked forward to their weekend plans. Suddenly, Jenn sighed loudly, wishing she didn’t have to leave on Tuesday.

“What’s up, girlfriend?” Trish asked her friend. Both women looked so concerned Jenn laughed.

“Oh, I’m fine, “ Jess explained. “I just wish I could stay. I miss this, the three of us hanging out.”

“Well, the Bay Area reports the news too. Have you thought about checking out the newspapers here?” Jenn asked her old friend.

“Ya know, I have thought about it off and on over the years but always pushed it to the back burner because I have been so busy at The Seattle Times.”

“Jon still lives on the island and works with his dad at the boatyard. His dad made him a partner in the business.” Trish blurted out without thinking.

Jenn kicked Trish under the table and gave her a dirty look. Jessi’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of his name. She still missed him after all these years. And while she dated after they went their separate ways, no one quite measured up to her old flame.

Her friends witnessed the sadness that crossed her eyes. They knew she never quite got over him.

“Well, that’s definitely old news!” Jess protested. She lied and told her friends, “I closed that chapter years ago.”

Jenn and Trish glanced at each other. They knew their dear friend still missed her first love. And both women fretted over this bit of news.

To change the subject, Trish told Jess, “I have an idea! I will have my new intern search for jobs at local papers! She can scour ads for apartments too! Where do you want to live? Sausalito… San Francisco…”

Before Trish could finish, Jess and Jenn smiled at one another, and in unison, they proclaimed, “On the island!”

“Are we really doing this?” Jenn asked. “Am I moving home?”

“It’s time,” Trish remarked.

The three women spent the rest of the night planning on Jessi’s return and, of course, what they planned on wearing to the reunion the following evening. The night flew by too quickly, and before they knew it, Jenn and Trish dropped Jessi off at her motel.

The next evening, Jessi finished her makeup and slipped into the little black dress she had saved for special occasions. Yesterday, while shopping at Southshore, she found a pair of black high-heeled shoes with the brightest red soles. It was love at first sight, so she purchased the pumps. It would be a cute addition to her reunion ensemble and a fun reminder of her trip to her island home.

Jessi had just slipped on her shoes when Jenn called her. “Okay, Cinderella, your carriage awaits.”

Jessi laughed, “I’m leaving now.”

The lovely lady in the black dress stepped out of her room and spotted Jenn’s Pilot. She quickly walked to the car, excited about the evening’s adventures. Trish rolled down the passenger window and whistled. Jessi stopped, twirled, and then curtsied as her friends laughed. The trio was happy to be together once more. Jess climbed in the back seat while scooting over an assortment of books and toys. She smiled and wondered if she would ever have a family.

“Hey Jenn, I will be the designated driver tonight, so you can get your party on,” she told her friend.

“No drinking for me, at least not for the next nine months,” Jenn told her girls.

Trish and Jess started talking and laughing at once, excited about the news. “When did you find out,” Trish asked.

“Today,” Jenn replied. “I haven’t even told Ryan. We planned on stopping at two.” Jenn chuckled.

Jess didn’t know Ryan well and asked Jenn, “Will he be okay with the news?”

Laughing, Jenn replied, “Oh yeah. We have always enjoyed surprises. I am just waiting until we can have a moment of peace. Then, I want to plan a night out and celebrate our happy new addition. So, ladies, you have a chauffeur for the weekend.”

Jess and Trish started planning Jenn’s baby shower on the drive to the O Club. Jenn asked Jessi, “Does that mean you really plan on moving home?”

“Absolutely! I miss my girls, and I need my little family. So Trish, you better have your intern start looking for jobs and apartments on Monday.”

“Wahoo! I’m on it,” Trish excitedly replied.

Once the ladies entered the club, the three were greeted by old pals, and they quickly joined a table with some of their favorite classmates. Quickly, the trio ordered drinks, Trish ordered a craft beer, Jess ordered a glass of Zinfindel, and Jenn ordered her favorite soda, a Dr. Pepper Zero. A DJ had set up in a corner and played dance music. People were laughing and talking, and couples were beginning to dance.

The three of them decided to dance too when one of their favorite high school songs began to play. A slow dance began to play when the song ended, and the girls took their seats. Then, suddenly, the music stopped. It was interrupted by a new song, “Just a Kiss,” by Lady A, and Jessi’s heart lurched. It was their song, Jonathan and Jessi’s song. Trish and Jenn sat across from Jessi and began smiling when suddenly, a familiar voice asked, “May I have this dance.”

Trish laughed and blurted, “Well, look who crashed the party. Aren’t you attending the wrong reunion?”

Trish’s distraction gave Jenn a moment to compose herself. She immediately recognized Jonathon’s voice when he asked her to dance. Turning around, she took his offered hand, and the two made their way to the dance floor. The couple slowly danced in silence, afraid to break the spell of being in each other’s arms once again. When the song ended, Jonathan asked Jessi, “Can we talk.”

Jessi nodded her answer. He grabbed her hand and pulled her to a corner table.

“I was an idiot,” Jonathon began. “I should have never pushed you away. After my mom died, I thought I was losing you too. I didn’t want to drag out the waiting like we had to with mom. She deserved better; the pain was awful. I felt like I should end it quickly, for both of us. But I was wrong, Jess. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since you graduated from high school. I tried dating others, but they weren’t you. So when I heard about your high school reunion, I contacted the committee and asked if I could crash. Jessi, I want you back. Please forgive me. I will never push you away again.”

Jonathon gazed into Jessi’s eyes, silently pleading. Jessie took a deep breath before she asked, “Promise?”

“Promise!” Jonathan shouted. He jumped from his chair and scooped her up in his arms. “I promise I will hold onto you forever.”

Writing prompt: Write a short story that ends with a promise.

Photo by Arek Adeoye on Unsplash

A Few of my Favorite Things

Published on January 22, 2023January 23, 2023 by Ann Marie Bryant2 Comments

List five things you do for fun.

Listening to audiobooks
Writing family history, family stories, poetry, and fictional short stories
Glamping and star gazing
Road trips
Genealogy

Photo by Kevin Andre on Unsplash

Photo by Toa Heftiba on Unsplash

Photo by Carli Jeen on Unsplash

Photo by Karsten Winegeart on Unsplash

Photo by Allef Vinicius on Unsplash

Photo by Mick Haupt on Unsplash

America’s Mountain

Published on January 21, 2023January 21, 2023 by Ann Marie Bryant2 Comments

Name an attraction or town close to home that you still haven’t got around to visiting.

O beautiful for spacious skies, for amber waves of grain

For purple mountain majesties, above the fruited plain

America, America, God shed His grace on thee

And crown thy good with brotherhood, from sea to shining sea.

America’s Mountain regally stands north of my home, so I often sit on my porch and admire its beauty. The blueish-purple outline rests among clear blue Colorado skies with billowing clouds that nestle close to its peak. Fresh untouched snow lingers at the summit, even at times, during summer months. Then, when the sun slowly sets, dusky skies shower viewers with a stunning light show. Pike’s Peak never disappoints.

Pike’s Peak inspired many to explore its valleys and peaks. This mountain encouraged writers and poets, artists, and dreamers. It beckoned explorers and scientists and provided refuge for wildlife and adventurers who desired outdoor havens. It provided breathtaking beauty and endless vast views of Colorado lands.

Pike’s Peak was named for an early explorer and has been nicknamed America’s Mountian. She found her way into our hearts with her amazing views and filled us with pride when we sang “America the Beautiful.” Yep, this same mountain inspired Katherine Lee Bates to write the poem “Pike’s Peak.” Later, Samuel A. Ward transformed the poem into the song we know and love today.

So why haven’t I visited this beauty since returning to Colorado over forty years ago? Good question. I was two months old when my dad was stationed at Fort Carson. We lived in the area for two years. During that time, my parents explored this mountain and drove to the summit with a baby in tow. So technically, I visited this mountain, but the older version of me would like to take away some memories and photos.

So I did a quick research. I can drive to the top or take the Cog Railway, a mode of transportation with a long history of transporting visitors to the top of this mountain. Plus, I could make a day of it and spend time in Manitou Springs, Garden of the Gods, or have dinner at the Flying W Ranch. Hmm, I foresee a road trip in the future!

Pictures

Photo by Landon Harris on Unsplash

Photo by Rich Martello on Unsplash

Photo by Apolo Photographer on Unsplash

Photo by David Phillips on Unsplash

Photo by Noah Glynn on Unsplash

Photo by Andrew Seaman on Unsplash

Photo by Kevin Mcvey on Unsplash

Photo by Clark Tibbs on Unsplash

Photo by Thomas Dewey on Unsplash

Photo by Jeff Brown on Unsplash

Photo by Joshua Forbes on Unsplash

My Favorite Teacher

Published on January 20, 2023March 22, 2026 by Ann Marie Bryant10 Comments

As a child, my mother read to me every day, and before long, books became as essential to my life as sunshine and fresh air. From the very beginning, Mama laid the groundwork for my lifelong love of reading. Some of my earliest memories are of sitting next to her, my head resting against her arm, listening as she turned the pages and brought stories to life with the gentle warmth of her voice.

She never simply read the words. She acted out each page. The characters came to life with different voices, and more often than not, she would have a fit of the gigles, laughing until she cried. In those moments, she would stop reading until she gained control. I am not sure what I enjoyed more, her laughter or the stories!

When I was about three years old, my mother began teaching me the alphabet. She would sit with me at the kitchen table and patiently point to each letter, repeating its name and sound until I could recognize each one.

Soon, I was copying the letters onto paper with a chunky pencil, gripping it tightly in my small hand, while she gently guided my fingers. I carefully practiced forming each letter as she showed me. By the time I was four, I could proudly read simple books by myself.

However, Mama did not simply teach me to read; she made learning come across like a game.

One of my favorite activities was the treasure hunt.

Mama hid small treasures around the house and left clues written on little slips of paper. These clues helped me learn some of my first sight words—go, to, and the. Sometimes, she would draw simple pictures of objects around the house with the word written underneath.

Lamp.

Couch.

Mailbox.

Each clue guided me to the next location until I finally found the hidden treasure, usually a small treat, a colorful barrette, or a new ribbon for my hair. I remember the thrill of sounding out the words and realizing that the message on the paper was meant for me to solve.

These small games turned reading into an adventure.

As my vocabulary grew, my mother began instructing me to read using the Dick and Jane Primer series. I can still remember the excitement I felt when I finally read Fun with Dick and Jane all by myself. I couldn’t wait to show my dad.

With all the pride a four year old could muster, I climbed into his lap and read the pages aloud. I still remember the look on his face as he listened, half surprised, half delighted, as the words on the page suddenly made sense to me.

From that moment on, my world expanded with each new book.

As I grew older, so did my small library. Mama always ensured that I had something new to read. Some of my favorite childhood books included James and the Giant Peach, Where the Red Fern Grows, Charlotte’s Web, Little Women, and From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler. I also devoured book series like Dr. Seuss, Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle, Little House on the Prairie, Nancy Drew, and The Hardy Boys.

Each book opened a door to a new world—one rich in adventure, mystery, courage, and imagination.

Looking back, I realize how busy my mother must have been raising us, running the household, and caring for our family. Yet, somehow, she always found time to sit beside me with a book in her hands.

She never rushed through these moments.

Instead, she supported my curiosity and made learning feel joyful and exciting. Long before I stepped into a classroom, my mother had already given me the greatest educational gift I would ever receive.

She taught me that books are more than just stories.

They were the keys that could unlock entire worlds.