Wednesday's Words on a Friday

On Wednesdays, assorted people have been taking monthly turns at putting up a selection of six (or twelve) words which is called “Words for Wednesday”.

We have taken over this meme from Delores, who had been having computer problems.

This month the meme continues here, at Elephant’s Child with words supplied by Margaret and Sue.

Essentially the aim is to encourage us to write.   

Each week we are given a choice of prompts: which can be words, phrases, music or an image. What we do with those prompts is up to us:  a short story, prose, a song, a poem, or treating them with ignore...

Some of us put our creation in comments on the post, and others post on their own blog.  We would really like it if as many people as possible joined in with this fun meme. If you are posting on your own blog - let us know so that I, and other participants, can come along and comment. 

I’m hopeless at poetry so I always do a story.

It’s a fun challenge…why not join in?

this week's words are:

1. tent

2. awe

3. wardrobe

4. agent

5. microlight

6. chair

and/or

1. hound

2. roof

3. tyre

4. bewilderment

5. joy

6. shoe

Here is my story:

As we set up the tents and chairs in the back yard, my husband Tim, told me about yesterday's morning class with the current crop of fourth graders. The topic had been sky and he'd asked them to name three things that could be seen in the sky. One boy had replied with "sunlight, moonlight and microlight." When Tim asked him what he meant by microlight, Benny had said "the stars, sir, some of them are so tiny, like pinpoints, my sister calls them microlights."  I thought perhaps the boy might one day be an astronomer and Tim nodded his head, agreeing it was a possibility, the boy was always reading books about galaxies and constellations.

When all the chairs had been placed around trestle tables, Tim checked the wire enclosure to be sure Rufus, our beagle hound wasn't going to be able to escape and create havoc once the rest of the family arrived. It was going to be a hot afternoon, so yesterday evening we'd constructed a roof for it from a sheet of canvas, so Rufus could have some shade and I'd tossed in a couple of old car tyres. For some reason Rufus loved lying curled up inside them. 

A week ago, the house next door had been auctioned off, we'd sat on our front porch and watched in awe as the estate agent kept the crowd of potential buyers interested with his non-stop chatter about the house, the area in general, the delights of living in a small country town. Bidding had been brisk, with the house finally being sold to a middle aged couple who planned to bring her newly widowed mother to live with them. As the house had been empty for some time, they were able to move in quickly and today was the day. 

It was also my birthday, my fortieth, and the joyful reason for the tents and chairs, as we were having a barbecue lunch, which would probably drag on for most of the day and become a barbecue dinner as well. We were hoping that perhaps the new neighbours would be happy to join us for a "welcome" meal and we'd get to know them. All we knew so far were their names, Brian, Maggie, and Maggie's mother Ava. 

As our family members began arriving, so did the moving truck which pulled up  and backed into their driveway. It was followed by a gleaming chauffeured vehicle and we watched discreetly as an older woman got out. Gazing about with bewilderment plain on her face, she directed the driver to place her suitcases on the path, case after case after case of matched luggage, all in pink leather. "This must be Ava," we whispered to each other. I counted the suitcases, six large ones and a dozen smaller ones in assorted sizes. Enough clothes to fill my own modestly-sized wardrobe several times over, surely. 

Maggie and Brian arrived just as the last case was added to the pile, an enormous round hat box that had been on the back seat. "Sorry we're a bit late Mum," Maggie said, "I broke the heel off my shoe at the last minute and had to unpack one of our boxes to find another pair."