Haiku Horizons, Dawn


Mourning, an Angel

Coldness, sadness, slap my face

Dawn’s funeral, still.




Stretching to the sun

pink, yellow. puff balls of dawn

invite me out, play.


Dawning of the day

Yesterday’s nightmares have passed

Rejoice, start anew.





Even My Tears Cry Tears


Father’s Day, 2014 Edition



HAPPY FATHERS DAY (Photo credit: Insight Imaging: John A Ryan Photography)

Father’s Day is coming, it’s just around the corner. I dread that holiday more than I now dread Christmas, the holiday that my dad and I used to love the most.

My dad has been dead twelve years now, one would think, I would have gotten used to the concept. But, no. I am never  ready for this day. I find myself, each year, being caught unaware with different triggers.

I think there is something very wrong with me. I mean it.

Am I stupid? Very possibly.

I have no dad.

My dad is dead.




Description unavailable

Description unavailable (Photo credit: wakingphotolife:)


English: Portrait of 1-year-old baby girl

English: Portrait of 1-year-old baby girl (Photo credit: Wikipedia)My father was the nurturer in the family, the closest in temperament to me, we understood each other with a glance or a smile; similar to the relationship I have with my son. The same type of thinking, parallel ways of feeling.


It seems to be Father’s Day again, some Holidays move around the Earth at a quicker pace, don’t you think? Birthdays, when you are older, seem to flash by in a second or two.

Am I stupid? Very possibly so. Can I not learn to get used to it?

Evidently, not.


Even writing these words down bring unwanted tears to my tired, blood-shot, green eyes.  I furiously blink away threatening tears.

Twelve years, it’s not like it happened yesterday but sometimes it feels like that, raw like a knife wound.

If it hasn’t gone away by now I don’t think there’s a chance it will ever go away.

So, naturally, when I was in the store a few weeks ago, once again, I headed straight for the Father’s Day section of cards. But this time, I did not actually look through the cards. I noticed where I was and quickly turned around after admonishing myself, without skipping a beat. To me, that’s progress. I didn’t stand in the aisle sobbing like I have done in years past.

There are just some things you can’t get used to, this is one of them.

For all of you who still have your Dads, please cherish them. For the dad of my children, I honor and cherish you and for my friend Alice’s father, JB, who tries to make me feel included even when I am not, I say, thank you.

Happy Father’s Day to the father figure that you do have, be it a friend, a neighbor, an uncle or a cousin, a brother…

And, if you don’t have a father figure in your life, you are even MORE special. Because you have a mom who is mother and father to YOU.  Kiss your Mom, once on each cheek because she makes EVERYTHING worthwhile. I congratulate HER.

forget-me-not - wild form

forget-me-not – wild form (Photo credit: joysaphine)




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A Perfect Fit (By MSC)

hold my hand

hold my hand (Photo credit: Adam Foster | Codefor)


Had there ever been a time when there was so much debris and clutter you couldn’t face it anymore? He swept it away violently from the table and left nothing, just some fractured blue glass, a bottle of ketchup and some wooden napkin holders. He insisted he was not a violent man.

“Clearing the chambers of my mind,” he called it.

He looked over his right shoulder and saw madness eclipsed in a minute: a bright plastic orange bowl holding half-eaten yellow sucking candy, an empty bottle of diet Snapple tea lying on its side, their garish red toothpaste stuck in their cracked sink, without its cap, like cement.

Books in uneven stacks that she had no interest in reading.

She refused to look at them, refused to try to see if she liked them, he bought each one of them for her, knowing she used to love to read.


It was maddening.

Her fear grew, you could smell it, raunchy, like a nasty bacterial bug spreading to all four corners of the room.

I watched her from the bed and saw her stomach clenched with tension, twinges of limbs of trees gnawing as if they grew inside her and were struggling to get out.

“Yes,” I said, to her two best friends, “” I am the infamous Jeffrey”.


“Do you think she settle down on her own or will she need the help of those pills?” the one with the blonde hair, Katie, asked?

One, of the hundreds and hundreds of pills, she keeps in the fake wooden drawers.

I knew better not to answer. I just shrugged my shoulders.


This was her life now with Jeffrey.

It had been this way now for three years.

Waiting, with him, at home, with no structure, wanting change, fearing it.

She was terrified with no reason because of no reason.

She loved him, she hated him just as much.

A double life sword. Get it?


It used to be very different. I used to be very different, she would say in her mind.

I was braver but also weaker, yin and yang.

But our hands still fit, perfectly, she thought. That’s gotta mean something…

The psychiatrist nods her mop of red hair knowingly but she doesn’t look convinced.

I don’t have happy memories anymore or bad ones she said. I don’t play that game anymore.

It is becoming increasingly painful.

Do I need out or in?

I’ve been in so long that it’s like being at home.

I know that when I go out, I can see the speckled orange and red leaves in the waving branches beckoning me closer.

Still, I hesitate.

Why? Physically,  emotionally? Both?

It’s hard sometimes to separate.



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Happy Birthday In Heaven


Delicious……………………… (Photo credit: ANDI2..)

Dear Lore,

It’s the day in the middle of our two birthdays. I missed your call to me yesterday and will miss my call to you tomorrow, but at least I remember your voice in my head and heart. It was a tradition for as long as I can remember. Every year we knew that our phones would ring, and every year, without fail, we would send each other a card. It was a tradition, a phone call and a card on two days, one day apart. I think I miss you more now than when you died. I really do. You understood me like no one else, we had the same temperament and you would give me advice. You were friends with my mother and I know she dearly misses you too. But to me, you were my favorite “Aunt” and a friend.

Tomorrow, I will not light a candle for you, you would hate that, but I will eat a lovely piece of chocolate in honor of you. You gave me my first job working for you in your European chocolate shop on Lefferts Boulevard in Kew Gardens. It believe it was called Mimi’s from the previous owner. People envied me that job and I can hear you say “and why shouldn’t they?” I pretended to dust, replace chocolate on the silver trays (while sampling in the back) and we talked a great deal and ordered pizza for lunch. I tell people now that “just because chocolate turns a little white doesn’t mean it’s gone bad.” I did learn something, see? .

It was 1977 and I was going to my first year in college in September and you and Edward surprised me by buying me a pair of designer jeans that I picked out at the jeans boutique down the street. I thought that it was the most generous thing that anyone had ever gotten me, you crocheted me a blanket too and it was on my college bed. Yes, I still have it. You sent me home-made Krispie -like treats to college, big batches and I was so happy.

There is just ONE thing I take exception too and I’m sure I speak for Diane (your real niece) as well. You called us each  “Augustus” telling both of us we were the ONLY “Augustus.” I would call you up and say this is “Augustus.” Only at your funeral did your real niece (and doctor) Diane and I realize you fooled us both, it was rather a funny moment when two grown women acted like 5-year-old children saying “I was Augustus” no, “I was Augustus.” You cheated on us, but we both were well-loved by you, love for two very different, wonderful people. Leave it to you to find a way to make us laugh at your own funeral, I have a hunch you planned it that way.

So I say to you, beloved friend, beloved fake Aunt,  Happy Birthday in Heaven. I truly miss you and I love you.


Augustus (1 or 2)


angel (Photo credit: M@rg)

Photo credits to above mentioned photographers,no rights of mine.

Writing @ LAF Publishing

Krispie treats  home -made

Plinky Prompt: Stand By Your…..

My photos that have a creative commons license...

My photos that have a creative commons license and are free for everyone to download, edit, alter and use as long as you give me, “D Sharon Pruitt” credit as the original owner of the photo. Have fun and enjoy! (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

  • Do you feel uncomfortable when you see someone else being embarrassed? What’s most likely to make you squirm? See all answers
  • Stand By Your…Friend, Family…
  • Not only do I feel uncomfortable when I see someone who is being ridiculed. I leap into their world automatically becoming “Super-Defender”on behalf of them. I hate to see people put on the spot especially if they are awkward or feel uncomfortable. I feel so bad for them especially if the other person is a bully. I will just fly with my invisible cape and dazzling smile, into the conversation and defend the victim. I’ll make perfect sense, I can argue up a storm and offer a good counter argument as well.
    It’s just when it comes to myself that the answers sometimes come later. I should have been a lawyer, a public defender but it’s a little late for that now. Unless they have done something illegal, I will always defend a friend or a family member, a loved one, no matter what. I think it’s called LOYALTY. There should be more of it in this world.

Haiku Heights – JOY

my guardian angel

my guardian angel (Photo credit: SIRHENRYB.is ****the dreamer****)

Happiness leaks out

News of a friend’s sudden death.

I have no breath left.

( In Memory of Helen Celestine Escoffier- an Angel to so many)


Like a gray rabbit

My pup prances down the steps

To our love, delight.


Coffee’s first, hot, sip

every morning with a kiss

beloved husband.

I Will Cross My Fingers For You

Fingers Crossed

Fingers Crossed (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Hi new person,

I just met you for a second on Facebook before, I don’t know you but I saw your name. All I know is that we were brought together by someone we know in common, a gentle, spiritual medium named Roland Comtois. You asked him for healing energy for your doctor’s appointment tomorrow but I think he had signed off by then. I offered to send healing energy to you and asked for others to join in. I don’t know you but any decent person would understand your anxiety and fear.

You are having a check up for your yearly mammogram, having been diagnosed with breast cancer before. Of course you are nervous and scared. Who wouldn’t be? I will give you advice that my Dad, when he was alive, gave me: Stay in Neutral. If you make a conscious effort it helps. You can avoid all the “what if….scenarios.”

I will send you magic dust so you can sleep tonight and get some rest and tomorrow I will pray that your examination goes well. I don’t even remember your first name now but I’m sure my healing energy and prayers will find the right person. I would do this in a second for anyone who needed it or wanted it. Family and friends of course, but just hearing in my mind, the tone of your message was enough for me to volunteer.

I hope all goes well but even if it doesn’t, you will have the strength to deal with it and carry on. Why? Because there is no other choice. We all fight to be alive, it’s an instinct. I think you will be fine, I praying for that. Good luck tomorrow my unknown friend.

My thoughts will be with you all day.

Good Luck!


Saying Good-Bye To Oprah

Signature of American television personality, ...

Image via Wikipedia

I loved the peachy-pink dress you wore on the last show, Oprah. I didn’t think this last show would be your own last lecture, a love letter, a synopsis from you to your adoring fans but in retrospect, it was what you were all about. Teaching. I admit I wanted to be able to cry, with you, for you and for me and the rest of the world but you saved that, and rightly so, for the last ten minutes.  Your walk from the stage out was like watching a play, with emotion, but not with regret. How wonderful to be you.

I imagined I would get to see an emotional Oprah, one that showed your vulnerability, any slight doubt you had, any separation anxiety. But, I, was the one with the separation anxiety and loss, not you. I was the one who needed an emotional good-bye, you didn’t. Truly amazing. For the last twenty-five years I have grown up with The Oprah Winfrey Show. Today, even though I tape the shows I had to see it live.  “I have to watch Oprah from 4-5pm today” I told my children. They understood and at 16 and 18, they have their own favorite shows, their loyal friends, their own lessons to learn, their own truth to find. We will have to teach them what we learned from you.

Oprah, you have been a friend to me and to people all around the world. “Your life is speaking to you, what is it saying…?” For me, it is saying that I will miss you, that I have learned so much from you, that 4-5pm will feel empty without you. You told us that “when it was the right time to leave, there was no regret, not bittersweet, just sweet.”  I know I couldn’t be like that. Sometimes, I second guess myself but I know how to listen to my gut, to my feelings, to search inside my soul. I always knew that but you validated my feelings; you cheered me on as a woman and especially as a parent, as a stay at home mother.

Oprah is a teacher, an educator, a spiritual and religious woman, that was very clear today.  You were on our own, to thank us, the audience, for making you feel special and loved and validated.  “We too can find our own passion, in whatever way we choose. We can help people, be kind to one another and stave off bad karma by putting forward only good karma.” Yes, we have heard it before but it was good to hear it one last time. To remind us all of what is important, to be kind and give to others.

We will spread the love, we will spread the joy and the passion. You were the love of our lives too, Oprah, as we were yours. After 25 years, I have to say good-bye to a friend who has been on television all of my adult life. I grew up with you and I have learned a lot of lessons from you. I feel sorry for this new generation because they will not have you in their lives to teach them. We will just have to pass down what we have learned from you; as you see, you will be in our hearts forever.

I will say good-bye, because I have to. Thank you for all that you have done for this world. I will truly miss you.

The Sum Of Me

Henri Matisse, The Dance I, 1909, Museum of Mo...

Image via Wikipedia

I am part of an internet group of dear friends who also have Fibromyalgia, a chronic pain disease. We generally talk about the effects of this leech, this parasitic illness and how it makes us feel and how it affects our lives. It is what brings us together; and we truly care about one another. Imagine, a group of people who you have never met yet you trust them, seek out their advice. These people really do know how your pain feels.

We could discuss things we used to do but cannot do now. For me, I would talk about gardening and how I used to have a big vegetable garden many years ago when bending down to my knees and getting up was no problem. I would reminisce about the bright green English peas that grew, the fiery red cherry tomatoes that bathed in the sunlight, two kinds of lettuce and thick, orange carrots. I could also talk about the three miles I used walk in under an hour with my work friends each day, outside, around a blue-green reservoir. Maybe I would confess I was a size eight for about two minutes and twenty years ago while I was struggling with infertility issues and the deep, emotional pain of that process. “If I couldn’t have children, I was going to be skinny” was my mantra as I made myself march outside.

The summer before I was diagnosed with Fibromyalgia, and my children were at camp, I would take the train to New York City and relish being surrounded by people from all over the world, hearing them speak, watching the beautiful, colorful outfits that so many people donned in shades of rose, green, yellow, blue, shades of white and grey. Perhaps I would see a Broadway show for half price, go to a museum, or back to the Village and try to recognize it after many years. Going in to the city was like having an international picnic without even leaving the gleaming Grand Central Station.  I didn’t worry back then about getting to the city and how much walking I would have to do and whether I had to take a cab because I was so tired and drained that I couldn’t put one burning, aching, painful foot in front of the other.

Many blogs I read are about chronic pain and diseases, and I wonder at their brilliance. It’s a dilemna for me because while I do write about my chronic illness or two, I write about everything else in my life.  Am I doing myself a disservice? It could be. I write about food, depression, fun, family, television, friends, travel, grief, cheesecake, chocolate etc.  It’s a mix and mash-up of a blog, like a patchwork quilt with different patterns and colors. Do I need to define myself more clearly?  I may have just answered my own question. I am all things, not just one.

I am a patient, a parent, a friend, wife, mother, teacher and student. I love many things: reading books with beautiful covers, writing, taking photographs of children or benches or boats. I love to watch red cardinals and yellow finches at my bird feeder and butterflies winking by me. I love to eat good food, I am sweet on sweets, I dislike alcohol; coffee, orange juice, chocolate milk or Diet Coke are my beverages of choice, I drink them all at different times.

I could choose to pick one subject to write about but, it would not be my true self, of that I am sure. I am all over the place with emotions and experiences, flying, sometimes crawling, like red, yellow, blue and black kites sailing in the gusty wind, all tangled together, or in peaceful harmony, sometimes independently flying free. I am a person, with many  facets. I am as many pieces of my puzzle as I want. It’s my puzzle, I need to make the pieces fit,  for me.