The Red Dress Club: Stolen Treasure

I look at him through red rimmed eyes. He wipes my cheek dry with one thumb and asks, Are you happy?

Yes. No. Sometimes.

Yes, when I’m focused.

No, when I falter.

Sometimes.

We sit in the center of our bed like our three children often do. Our room is large but this space in it is small. Our toes touch. Our voices conspire.

He is loving mixed with worry. I am anxious laced with anger.

Anger because he dared scratch beneath the surface of what I want seen. I am faltering.

When I’m focused, I see a straight path to my treasure. The obstacles along the way are simply tasks to complete.

But inevitably, I falter. I falter. It is my own undoing every single time. I steal my own confidence. My own vision. My own focus.

I hide these treasures somewhere deep inside until they are no longer visible. And I replace them with ugliness. Fear. Insecurity. Jealousy.

What makes you happy? He asks, leading me back.

The kids, you, writing. I list my gems one by one, keeping track on my fingers. I try to hide behind my words, but I can’t.

I slump and put my counting hand down. I need a break. He smiles, because this he can fix.

We talk quietly. Share days. Make plans.

I tuck my children into bed again.

I take advantage of a hot shower and soft fleece.

I ignore my multiplying to do list and spend time with a friend.

Wine and laughter soothe my soul. I share my writing goals. They are big and seem far away.

I’m scared to try.

You’ll be great.

When I falter, kind words wash over me without making the tiniest of imprints.

When I’m focused, I open the door, gently unroll each one, and welcome it in. Believe in it and allow it to restore me.

I have a choice to make, a task to complete. Let go of my stolen treasures and continue down this spiral or consciously stop. Refocus. Reclaim what is rightfully mine.

I come home and softly make my way through each sleeping room.

I breathe in the stillness at each stop and place one hand on each rhythmic heartbeat just for a moment. Careful not to wake, ready to summon the goodness back to me.

I tiptoe downstairs and melt into the large green chair. I wrap myself up in the sheer yellow blanket, open my laptop and begin to type.

Each tap of the keys is a claim: These treasures are mine. I see them. And I am taking them back.

Red Writing Hood is a writing meme. This week’s prompt was to write about a treasure that was stolen from you or your character, and what you did about it. Constructive criticism is welcome.

 

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...

Comments

  1. I really related to this Galit. My goals so often feel too lofty and faraway, yet the answer is to just sit down and begin – all the time. This was written so well in the way it shone a light on the you within – the faltering, the happy, the unsure. I got it.

  2. How do you do this every time? You just surround the reader with your words and take us right in to your world. Beautiful as ever Galit.

  3. Oh Galit, you write with such seeming ease, your words float. I cannot imagine that these dreams of yours can be so far away. I’m sure they’re not. Keep typing.

    You weave words into mesmerising patterns. Always, there is a lyrical quality to your prose. And the imagery is so strong.

    “The kids, you, writing, I list my gems one by one, keeping track on my fingers.”
    “Our room is large but this space in it is small. Our toes touch. Our voices conspire.”
    “He is loving mixed with worry. I am anxious laced with anger.”

    Loved it. Just keep typing!

  4. you made me cry this morning. the tenderness he has, the giving of your words to him, the acknowledgment of falterings is bravely spoken.. an aching read, and then such soft satisfaction at the end when you are at peace. Beautiful. thank you for writing this.

  5. This was genuinely captivating. A very disciplined piece. I loved it.

  6. You are absolutely, without fail, a brilliant writer. I’m echoing Angie here in that those dreams cannot possibly that far away with the gift that have for words.

  7. Just saw your tweet about BlogHer syndication and came over to see your work again – wow!

    I’m teary eyed and touched! This: “Anger because he dared scratch beneath the surface of what I want seen.” (as well as a number of other incredible descriptions in this post) brought back – viscerally – feelings & emotions I’ve had — such evocative words and such inspiration!!

    Thanks so much, Galit

  8. “Most of the shadows of this life are caused by our standing in our own sunshine.”
    Ralph Waldo Emerson

  9. Yes. Yes, yes, yes. There aren’t enough yes’s in the world for me to use to let you know how very real the feelings you describe here are to me. How many times my husband asks if I’m happy, and how I don’t always know the answer. How I hate it when he sees through me. How much he believes in me when I’m afraid and don’t believe in anything, especially myself.

    This is beautiful. I hope you keep typing and keep sharing yourself like this, because you do it so well.

  10. It is another beautifully woven piece. You really do have a lyrical quality to your work. Thank you for sharing-

  11. This is wonderful. I can relate. It’s so hard to put yourself first, so it just doesn’t happen. I am so happy that you are reclaiming it because I love to read what you have written.

    I love this line, because it defines my life:

    When I falter, kind words wash over me without making the tiniest of imprints.

    Wonderfully written as always.

  12. Your talent is so beautiful; your words never fail to move me. I am glad for you that you have someone believing in you and helping you to find the time to do what you love.

    It is so difficult to move towards our goals when we’re the ones standing in the way, and I hope that you are able to keep your path clear and focused.

    The only (tiny) thing that doesn’t sit perfectly with me is this part: He is loving mixed with worry. I am anxious laced with anger.

    For some reason it just sits awkwardly when I read it, but I like the combination of the emotions, so I don’t really have a suggestion about how to change it. It’s probably just me!

  13. Oh Galit,

    I am in the same place! I love your word choice – “Our toes touch. Our voices conspire.
    He is loving mixed with worry. I am anxious laced with anger.
    Anger because he dared scratch beneath the surface of what I want seen. I am faltering.”

    These words are what make this piece flow for me, and flow it does – ever so nicely. I’m captivated by your words and your writing style. Concrit – for this piece, I have none because the writing is lean, efficient and magical.

    Thanks for this.

  14. And I have faith that you will get there.

    I know that feeling of falling or pulling apart at the seams. You expressed it beautifully.

    Way to pick yourself up and keep going.

  15. oh, wow Galit. I often wonder how you do it all..how you manage to be AMAZING all the time, but I should know as a mom and ahuman being that there would be times of not knowing and of doubt.
    You need not worry, you have a talent in your head and hands that speaks to us, when you are weary rest, but when you are ready…WRITE for us, please. :)
    xox

  16. Melanie said it best: your writing is lean and magical.
    I do love how your writing floats word to word, line to line and takes me along for the ride.
    (I wish I had your drive and ambition!)

  17. LOVE this! Love the imagery, diction, and feeling. Love that I could identify with it SO much.

  18. Very well written, I can be IN the room with the characters. The words which actually put me there were “Our room is large but this space in it is small. Our toes touch. Our voices conspire.”

    Thank you for sharing this lovely piece.

  19. Oh my G-d. So beautifully written. SO well worded. So intense, so deep and so real. Thank you so much for sharing this with us. I truly appreciate that you have and I loved it. Perfect.

  20. This is a hot topic this week! I just wrote something similar on my regular blog!

    You have such a way with words and it flows together perfectly!

    I so love” when I’m focused I open the door, gently unroll each one and welcome it in. Believe it and allow it to restore me” that is exactly how I feel!

  21. I so relate to this. My life is very busy and when I take the time to be here and blog and write and be inspired there is always the feeling that I am taking time that I should be doing more for everyone else. It’s sad because this makes me happy. I feel you my friend. xoxo

  22. You know Galit, there are some who call themselves writers and then there are some that ARE writers.

    You. You ARE a writer.

    I think you could write a phone book and we would hang on every word. :)

  23. I too loved the poetic use of language. It is powerful without sacrificing the lyrical quality.

    My only critique is that while the reclamation of your treasures is clearly (and beautifully) articulated, I didn’t feel the same way about the theft of them. And it only stood out because I knew what prompt to which you were writing. Had I not known that this was intended to be about a stolen item, I wouldn’t have missed it at all.

    SO — my critique might not be so helpful because I wouldn’t want you to alter what you have created here.

  24. Your writing is worth the time. It is something you do well. Never stop writing, whether you reach that lofty goal or not. The writing is the thing. The goal, when reached, a bonus.
    My “treasures” have ridden patiently in my head for decades. Now I’m having a chance to share them. For me, that is a bonus.

  25. This is really lovely and raw, Galit. Writing is such a red dress, isn’t it? Do we dare? Do we not? Is it silly? What’s the point? We can become our biggest obstacles. I could definitely relate to it.

  26. Beautiful, lyrical writing, as always. It wasn’t always clear what had been stolen from you, but I inferred a little, and it all made sense.

  27. Ooh, Galit, I really connected with this one, all the way through. Underneath the poetry I can feel the restlessness and longing, not just for a “room of one’s own” to write in but the time and space. Whether stolen treasures are time with friends or husband, writing is the true stolen treasure. Yet you have made it so rightfully yours.

  28. Beautifully written – I absolutely loved this bit: Our room is large but this space in it is small. Our toes touch. Our voices conspire.

  29. Keep typing girl. I’m moved every time I enter your world. Great job!

  30. This caught my breath and I haven’t quite released it yet. I love this. It makes me thankful and encouraged and hopeful. It also makes me want to cry.

    I kept choosing my favourite parts to tell you about and the list got too long! “Our toes touch. Our voices conspire.” This really stood out to me. I like the imagery and the sentiment.

    I think this really made it for me though: “Each tap of the keys is a claim: These treasures are mine. I see them. And I am taking them back. ” It’s action and faith all at once.

    My breath is still caught! I’m going to have to print this one out and carry your strength with me.

  31. I feel like you took a peek into my mind and transformed my thoughts and feelings into words. Knowing that you have these same feelings, these same fears and insecurities makes me feel better.

    Sometimes those goals seem impossible dreams. I try to remember that we can achieve our goals while our dreams fade away.

    Thank you for writing this and opening your heart by way of your lovely words.

  32. Wow, you have an amazing way with words. You have taken a conversation that I have probably had with my husband a million times and turned it into something poetic.

  33. I’m here from I Thought I Knew Mama’s Sunday Surf. This is so beautiful. I love the section:

    “The kids, you, writing, I list my gems one by one, keeping track on my fingers. I try to hide behind my words, but I can’t.
    I slump and put my counting hand down. I need a break. He smiles, because this he can fix.”

    I feel like I’m there with you — you describe the details so well, like your toes touching. And I’ve been there myself in those moments, of faltering and failing and needing time to step away and have someone reassure me.

    Thank you for sharing this.

  34. I love how you describe this perfect moment of connecting. it was beautiful.

  35. I love your blog and the fact that when I click on it, I never know what I’m going to be reading about! Please accept the Versatile Blogger Award from my blog to yours! Just visit and grab it and have a great week!

    http://www.contemplatinghappiness.blogspot.com

  36. Oh this is beautiful. You have such a gorgeous way with words, you had me completely captivated. Your writing is really amazing!

  37. Yay for story bleed!

Trackbacks

  1. […] These Little Waves wrote a post that described a small and powerful moment that really touched me: Stolen Treasure Please link up your favorite post of the week here – whether it’s yours or someone […]

  2. […] the original post Subscribe to These Little Waves by RSS or email Follow Galit on […]