108. Just Ten Images – Ash Parsons

Without even realizing it, I was finding a way to write my life—even when I had “no time or energy to write.”

I spent my early years in a rural village in Zaire, Africa, in the 1980s, and when our family moved back to the United States, I didn’t fit in. Fortunately, my parents gave me my first diary, complete with a little gold lock and key, as a “welcome home to the home that doesn’t feel like home” gift. Lonely and confused about this new version of a village, I poured everything into those pages. I never missed a day, and each year I started a new one. Understanding my life by writing it down became a practice I carried into adulthood, married life, and motherhood.

Then we adopted our third son. Zion was born three months premature and weighed two pounds. The first time I saw him, wires and tubes came from his body like octopus legs and the beeping alarms of the NICU screamed at me. But the sight of him gave me the same feeling as when I gave birth to my other two sons: It was like coming home. I spent the next six weeks holding Zion inside my shirt, skin to skin, watching him grow. Life as a NICU mom was all-consuming and not conducive to writing. There’s only so much you can do when you’re holding a fragile, football-sized human in your arms.

So I started to make mental notes of images:

-The scrub room at the NICU entrance, where I’d lather my hands at the wide metal basins, using my foot to control the faucet.

-The flashing red number that signaled his oxygen saturations were dropping as he lay in his incubator, and how they came back up to normal as soon as I held him.

- The way he furrowed his brow like an old man when he was hungry, pursed and wrinkled his lips as he gave out a little squawk.

I carried these images in my mind’s back pocket and wrote them down when I got home. Without even realizing it, I was finding a way to write my life—even when I had “no time or energy to write.”

Zion is nine now and life hasn’t gotten any less complicated. Mothering a critically ill child with disabilities is the most wild gift. It’s a life of surprises, delights, and never ending interruptions, and that’s just before breakfast. But writing is how I translate my life to myself. It’s my sense-maker. So in the middle of it all, I have embraced a writing life of Ten Images. That’s it, just ten.

I think of ten moments, mental pictures, scenes, objects that pop up when I recall the last 24 hours and then I write them down. They range from the mundane to the exceptional—it doesn't matter. The value doesn’t lie in the image, but my attention to it. Sometimes one of those images jumps out at me and says, “Let’s go somewhere together…” and I find myself writing an entire chapter or essay. True story: I’m currently writing a memoir this way. But most of the time I look at my list and exhale with a great sense of accomplishment: I have lived another day. I have seen what I’ve seen. And I have given my life a voice by writing it down.

– Ash Parsons

Prompt:
Your life might look nothing like mine but maybe you also feel that you lack the time, emotional space, or the presence of that saucy minx, “inspiration,” to write. Maybe you can’t sit down and write multiple pages or hundreds of words but I bet you can come up with ten images from the last 24 hours. Give it a try.

One of my favorite things is going back through my “Ten Images” pages from the last year and seeing what I saw. No matter what is going on in the world, within or without, I know I can find a home in these pages.

Barbara Terao

Location: Whidbey Island, WA
About: I am a writer, nature-lover, and psychologist, writing a memoir about breast cancer called What's Left: Science, Superstition, and Survival. Born in Northfield, Minnesota, I now live in the Pacific Northwest with my husband and with our children nearby. This journal entry records moments on Whidbey Island with my husband, grandchild, and lots of berries!
Age: 64

1. I awaken to a cloudy, ombre pink sky over the Salish Sea, seen through a stand of Douglas firs.

2. The quilt made by my husband's mother is ready for autumn, next to the bed. I see new details in Obachan's log cabin design, in her variation of green "logs" on one of the squares. She is gone now, but I feel her care for us in those details.

3. My magnifying mirror is encircled in light. Should I be using this ring of light for video meetings? I am always half in shadow.

4. Fresh blueberries go into my batter for our breakfast. They, too, have a colorful ombre effect as the pancakes cook in our cast iron griddle.

5. My husband is my barber during quarantine. I sit outside in a lawn chair and see brown and silver curls accumulate in my lap. Now that I am done with chemotherapy, my hair is back and needs cutting.

6. I see the moon, pale in daylight, and notice two eagles flying beneath it.

7. The Himalayan blackberry bushes remind me of their thorns as I pick the plump, glistening fruit to be shared with family. My right thumb and index finger are dyed purple.

8. I pick up a 1973 book about wellness that is an old friend and I read part of it. The advice still applies.

9. Our one-year-old grandson's dark hair ruffles in the wind.

10. Magenta stains of blackberries ring the child's mouth.

Linda Buss

Location: Freeport, IL
About: COVID has me so isolated in my home. The "snapshot" prompt fit perfectly into my day as I moved about the house and really took in the sights and appreciating my beautiful home as I do on a daily basis. Thank you for the inspiration and the opportunity to share my thoughts and world.
Age: 66

Rain!! It's raining!!! We've had a bit of a drought here in Northwest Illinois. So much so that we have gone 16 days in a row without mowing. In stark contrast to the Spring when we were mowing beautiful green lush grass every 4 days. We so need this rain. I love hearing the rain hit the window and hearing the sound of rolling thunder in the distance. If I listen ever so carefully I can actually hear every blade of very dry brittle grass in my lawn going. Ahhhhhhhhh.

Darkness. It's dark in the house because of the rain. The sky is completely overcast and it's so dark in the house I have to turn on the lights even though it's 11 A.M. The darkness envelopes me as I move about the house. It's rather eerie actually. As if everything is still asleep.

Bunnies. Not the usual kind. Dust bunnies. The kind that have collected weeks of cat hair that I swear have grown in size to that of a full grown bunny. Maybe I imagined it, but I think one of them just tried to grab at my ankles as I walked across the hardwood floor. Now where did I put that Swiffer?

Dishes. The damn dishes. I hate doing them. I've done dishes by hand my entire life. I'm 66. But there is a light at the end of the tunnel! My go-to construction guy is going to be upgrading my kitchen a smidge this fall AND ADDING A DISHWASHER! I'm so excited! I won't know how to load the damn thing, but I am finally getting a dishwasher!

Carpeting. The carpeting actually made me smile this morning. I walk in to see the perfect stripes left by the vacuum sweeper. The stripes are holding on to dear life waiting for the next foot print or paw print to ruin their uniformity. It won't be long. Our two cats will have mottled prints all over very soon. But no worries, the stripes will be back in a couple of days.

Guest room. How is it that a room can bring me so much joy? I love glancing in the guest room as I walk by and seeing the pretty yellow flowers on the coverlet. It's so bright, refreshing and hopefully inviting! But with Fall fast approaching, the sunny yellow flowers' days are numbered. It will soon be time to switch out the cover for an all-white duvet for the winter. Still pretty in white, but not the pop of color that makes you think of Spring and Summer.

Grandbabies!! Between my hubby and I we have 7 beautiful grandchildren. We are so blessed to live close to each and every one of them. But now that I look closely at my picture display I realize I really need to update the pictures!! The two youngest ones have changed so much and really need updated photos. Come on Grandma, get to it!

Artwork. If that's what you can call it. I've really only taken up painting since I retired two years ago. I have no formal training which is apparently rather obvious! But thank God for Pinterest! I can find something I like on there and try my best to duplicate it.

Fabric. And more fabric! This is a portion of my fabric collection cut out for face masks. I currently have over 130 different fabrics to choose from. My orders have slowed down, thank goodness, so that I can finally tackle other projects around the house. I did, however, make my 650th mask last week. Whew! That makes ME tired just thinking about it!

Creak. Or should I say c-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-e-e-e-e-e-a-a-a-a-k-k-k-k. That's the noise my bathroom door makes every time I go in and out. Every time I go in and out I say to myself, I should spray the hinge so it doesn't creak. Every time. And every time I forget. Until now. Or not. Maybe the next time.