Take it One Day at a Time

I normally don’t do revision in a different post but I decided to do one for this. I titled the revision One Day at a Time under Touring places, Reposts.


The frigid temperature chilled the bone but the frost on the trees were inviting. I saw my breath with every exhale. From the corner of my eye, I saw a white coat of frost on my hair but I kept walking. In daze, my thoughts run deep: the troubles, the work load and that woman. I thought after a year in the field of nursing I would have built a shield of armor but instead I felt more and more sympathetic. During studies they said don’t get emotionally attached to your patients but I never saw this coming. Everyday his wife was in and the look on her face when she lost her husband was haunting: Those eyes, the fear in her face and all I could say to her is, I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop rehearsing it in my head. I felt so sad and I kept wondering if there was more I could have done.

I never lost a patient whom I cared for since entering the field. I don’t know whether I could get over this or deal with another case as devastating. I was now questioning my career. I didn’t want to go back. “I have two more shifts, that’s all. I could do this,” I whispered. Leaving the park, I began walking home.

Where had the time gone. I looked at my watch, 4:30. The sun was setting. Short days made it feel later than it was. I walked up to my door, fingers stiff, I unlocked it and went in. I slipped off my shoes and settled on the sofa. I turned the television on. Scrolled through the stations but nothing on the TV got my attention. I finally turned it off. I strolled into the kitchen and searched the fridge for something to snack on. I didn’t really want to eat but I had to have at least a small bite of something. I put together a bologna sandwich and poured a glass of orange juice. I sauntered back into the living room and sat on the sofa. I put my feet up on the ottoman and sat in silence. I just wanted quiet for now and hoped these feelings of dread and despair would pass.

My last two days of work went by fast. It was now my days off and I felt a slight relief, a weight off my chest. I know this field of work can have its ups and downs. I hoped after my days off I’d get my strength back. I called my friend and planned an evening: dinner, movie and end with a drink at the nightclub. I hadn’t been out since starting my job. It was no wonder that I was a mess, all work and no play makes me a mess of a nurse.

My days off were a blessing in disguise. I felt refreshed and recouped. Getting out really had helped. My friend was so supportive and all we did was laugh and talk about the fun things we had done before I got busy and neglected myself of leisure. I was even ready to get back to work without dread.

Heart to Heart About Change


Let’s have a heart-to-heart about change from the perspective of a person who knows what poor really means. My opinion about changing the world is that it is impossible but to change ones fate is possible. Change starts with one’s self when we begin to change our own fate, whether it’s kindness, employment, taking a chance, opening a business, or whatever that brings you to a better place in your spirit. From there it brings a better chance to your immediate family – those we bring into the world.

                       Therefore, it has been my belief that change starts with self before it can pass to another. For instance, with me it has been by being there and encouraging, talking heart-to-heart, standing behind family, keeping the door open that I have been able to bring change. I could bear the burden and sacrifice if it saves my own member from failure. That is what I believe is making a difference to another means. Because life has thrown me many challenges, that is the extent I’ve been able to accomplish. I could say with confidence that my life has already been better than what my grandparents and my mother’s life was. That is change.

                      To sum it up – that is change – my change when my life improved. Then, I brought change to my family when I made sure they didn’t make the same mistakes as I did and when I stood by them every step they took. That is change to another.



I spread thy wings

early morning arising

to fulfill a longing

desireth for growing

for I was born to live

life to its fullest

in pursuit

for which the heart cravith


It is in the air that flows

a breath that cannot be seen

a flitter of hope

that faith holds

where fate lies

for which the heart cravith

S.L.S Oborowsky

Rewrite from writing prompt created by Kellie Elmore. Original post, titled My Contribution retitled Destiny



Heart to heart like the bridge that connects embraces the soul

Moving forward like the river that flows embraces free spirit

A loving touch like the beauty of frost-coated branches embraces love

A coat of white like an angels wings embraces purity

SLS Oborowsky, 2014

One Year on WordPress


I have been on WordPress for a year now. It has been a joy to be here sharing words with you! Love it much, love it a lot and look forward to writing until I run out of bits. Lol “lots of love” and “lots of laughs” but most of all “laugh out loud”. I sometimes strain my eyes and have to set the reading glasses down, take a break before I manage to find my way back, but I come back. Thank you, my community of friends, for following me and thank you to those who have stopped by.

Holiday Stresses

I tossed and turned. A minute passed 12 and I was still awake. It was the night before Christmas Eve and all I could think about was all that I still had to do with preparing two different suppers and making time for gift opening on Christmas. My heart raced, my mind swirled. It was as if I hadn’t done this before. Every year, the same. I don’t know why I was a basket case this year. Maybe it was  the back-to-back suppers, splitting up the holiday dinners. I knew it would all be fine but try telling that to the mind.

I awoke, 9:35 am. I don’t remember when I fell asleep but I somehow did because it was morning. I rose. The room was quiet. It seemed I was up before everyone except the pets. I started the coffee and went and freshened up. Not a creature did I arose with my nosy start: pots banged, coffee percolated, doors opened and closed. If it were I, I know I would have been awakened! I prepped much of supper when noise of pitter-patter startled me. “Good morning Mom. Need any help?” Said my daughter as she entered.

Before I knew everyone was up and prancing around. With more movement of bodies, the supper prepping started coming together. Before long us girls were sitting around visiting like the males in the man-cave who had been relaxing.


Dear Father

When I was young I asked my mother many times about you, what you did, and if you knew I existed.
Another year older and I’d ask the same questions. I wanted to meet you but the opportunity never arose. Nevertheless, the desire was strong. I know now I will never meet you and I want you to know that there was also a time in my life when I got to the point that if I was given the opportunity, I would have given you a piece of my mind. Now, I don’t care about any of that. I don’t ask my mother about you anymore. It isn’t as important and the urge to meet you has faded. I don’t know what that says about me other than the fact that I’m too old to worry about it anymore. My younger days have passed and I have had my children, did the best I could to make it a better place for them, and as a grandmother, I hope to do the same for my grandchildren. My grandchildren will know me one way or another because I was there for mine.
The Baby You Never Knew
In heaven, maybe I will search for you again. Until then!

Your Loving Daughter

SOborowsky©all rights reserved

Five Things Authors Shouldn’t do…

Let’s get serious for a sec. This is important because it not only speaks to us but our children. We are killing the publishing industry by negative. I have listed five things I feel are important. Coming together in one place with one frame of mind, good karma.
working together
  1. Shouldn’t tell a fellow author, don’t quite your day job. Why? It’s an insult. It’s their decision and the person knows what they are doing.
  2. Shouldn’t tell a fellow author that there are many bad books out there. Why? That is up to readers to  determine and leave a review if they wish. These are also areas that can be improved. There are editors who work with authors. Throughout history, there have been many bad works that schools accepted as good writing. We grew up accepting that. Who influences whom is the big question.
  3. Shouldn’t suggest that there are too many people publishing. There are jobs that have limited openings and many working in jobs that are not their field of expertise because of shortages. It is also a dream killer. We have real feeling.
  4. Shouldn’t speak about another author in a way that demeans. It is different if you are reading a book that is not your usual read and can’t get into it. Many of us have our own taste. I am strictly speaking of bashing another story. It sets a very bad tone right off the bat; not for the author getting the put down but the one criticizing. There is constructive criticism and this should be done in a way that helps the author.
  5. Shouldn’t tell an author they have to be marketers. We talk about taking jobs away from each other. What’s the difference here? Understanding it and becoming one are two different things.
We talk about karma, well these are setting a negative one that is affecting both traditional and self-published authors. We talk about pursuing dreams then we bash one for following through. Where do we draw the line?

Shower of Sadness

Writing prompts created by Kellie Elmore at http://kellieelmore.com/category/free-write-friday/ for Free Writing Friday (FWF)

This weeks writing prompt is an image prompt courtesy of Kelly for which we are to create a story or poem from. Thank you Kellie for the prompts. Anyone interested in following Kelly, please click on the link and visit her there.

Jackson Wedding

It is an occasion, her occasion, but my heart aches as I watch her walk gracefully. I should be cheering and celebrating with her but I can’t. I fake a smile as she walks by.

Savannah Jacobson, an elegant woman of grace, had been my friend since childhood.  We always said we’d merry on the same day and children who’d play together. However, I haven’t found Mr. Right and she is already having her first child already.

I could hear laughing fading as my though deepens. I feel like I’m losing a friend as she moves to a place I feel I don’t fit in. A gathering of mommies and children displace me. A tap on my shoulder jolts me back to the now.

“Oh, Savannah.”

“Hi, sorry I’m not ignoring you.”

“It’s fine. I know you’re busy with everything. Is the gift I got you okay?”

“I love it. Thank you. Is everything okay Rebecca?”


“I’ve known you all my life. Please.”

“Yes, everything is fine.” I deny. I give her a big smile.

I know she doesn’t believe me but she leaves it at that.

Her sister interrupts, “Everyone we are going to play a little game.”

She has our attention and I feel like sneaking way. Savannah taps my leg. “You have to join in.”

“I really would like to just watch if you don’t mind Savannah. I’m not much of a game player you know that.”

“It’ll be fun.”

“If everyone would please come up to the craft table.”

Savannah grabs my hand and pulls me. I follow with dread.

“The object of the game is to create a mask and the best mask wins by popular vote. There are feathers, beads, sparkles, glue and masquerade masks. Please go ahead and start as soon as I say go and I will begin the timer. As soon as the buzzer goes off, stop whatever you are doing. May the best mask win. Everyone ready, go!.”

I dive right in and divulge myself into the craft. I begin to release all the negative as the time ticks. A half hour later, the buzzer goes off. I have a masterpiece. I am quite impressed. Savannah looks over and smiles. I give her a real smile. I feel so silly for thinking so awful.

“It wasn’t so bad was it.” she whispers.

“No, thank you.”

“Our friendship doesn’t change Rebecca.”

“How’d you know?”

“I know you. I know you feel out of place. You don’t have to.”

I give her a big hug.