Happiness Found Me Alone

Happiness found me alone one day and took me by the hand.
He showed me how the sun gave out its warmth across the land.
Sadness found me content and smiling upward at the sun.
He talked of droughts and blindness and what burning rays had done.

Happiness found me alone again and pointed to the sky.
He showed me how the storms created rainbows way up high.
Sadness found me intrigued and took me to the rainbow’s end.
He showed me how it disappeared to ne’er return again.

Happiness found me alone and taught me how to sing a song.
He sang a dozen melodies as I chirped right along.
Sadness found me singing out and covered up his ears.
He said the noise was deafening, and wished he couldn’t hear.

Happiness found me alone and gave me seven coins of gold.
He showed me many fancy things that merchants often sold.
Sadness found me admiring the pretty things I’d bought.
He pointed out my empty purse and money I had not.

Happiness found me alone and helped me talk to someone new.
He called the boy my friend and said that I was his friend too.
Sadness found me together with my kind, attentive friend.
He whispered of betrayal and how broken hearts don’t mend.

Happiness found me alone and held me tight in his embrace.
He whispered kindness in my ear and kissed me on the face.
Sadness found me with Happiness but before he spoke at all,
I told him he’d have better luck at talking to the wall.

― Richelle E. Goodrich, Making Wishes

The Jealous Sun

"The sunlight whispers in my ear, his breath a warm, sultry tease.  I shrink and duck beneath a tree.  My eyes squint to scan the horizon for a glimpse of the wind, but there are no ashen ribbons or golden waves in sight.  He is missing. 

Trickling, tinkling notes reflect loudly off a chandelier of glimmering droplets.  The rain sings to me, and I shield my eyes, admiring the song.  Far off in my western view I expect to see snow, but the sun grows hot with jealousy, knowing this.  He refuses my snowman a place to set. 

My sight drops to search for the man in the moon.  Normally he rises dripping wet from out of the lake, often pale and naked, supple and soft to my caressing gaze.  On rare occasions he dons a pumpkin robe as luminous as fire.  Today he is draped in silks of the saddest blue.  My heart weeps as he steals up and away. 

An army of stars in shining armor come to my aid, and they force the sun into the ground—a temporary grave.  I am fed with a billion bubbles of laughter until I feel I will burst.  But the stars will not stop giving, and I will not stop taking. 

A kiss brands my cheek, and I turn abruptly to find my snowman.  He landed safely in the dark.  We hide from the man in the moon behind a curtain of flurries to dance on polished rainbows and feast on stars until I hear a fire-red growl.  The sun claws its way out of the soil, and everyone scatters."

― Richelle E. Goodrich, Making Wishes

Copyright 2015 Richelle E. Goodrich

It's All in the Glasses

By Richelle E. Goodrich

I looked out the window on an early-morning bus, noting how low the gray cloud-cover hung.  The dark and heavy sky was threatening rain.  I watched a tall line of trees that bordered acres of hay field, the wind flailing branches like they were bits of straw.

“What a miserable day,” I sighed.

Surprisingly, someone responded to my bleak announcement—a man one seat back. “You just need new glasses,” he said. 

His hand reached over my shoulder, a finger and thumb pinched as if holding the thin arm of actual frames, only there was nothing in his fingers.

I glanced backwards, my expression questioning his comment as well as his sanity.

“Go on,” he urged, holding up his gift of nothingness.  My eyebrows slanted, appraising him. 

“There’s nothing there,” I finally pointed out.

“Sure there is,” he insisted.  “These are special eyeglasses.  Go on, put them on.”

I played along, partly to be kind and partly to avoid a public scene with a madman.  In a careful gesture, I took the invisible spectacles and pretended to slip them over my nose.  Another rearward glance found the man smiling.  He pointed at the window.

“Now look again.” 

My head turned the other way to take a second glimpse at the gray sky.  There were raindrops clinging to the window now, tracing a slow, horizontal line across the glass.  Before I could say anything, the man made a soft but excited observation in my ear. 

“See that beam of sunlight streaming through the break in the clouds?” 

It was beautiful, like a spotlight glimmering on a distant rooftop.

“And look there,” he said, gesturing again at the sky.  “See that rainbow?  Or half of it, anyway.”

My eyes followed a translucent smear of colors to somewhere behind a neighborhood of houses.  I hadn’t noticed it earlier.

“See those pink blossoms on that little tree?”

I nodded as we past it by.  “Pretty.”

“See the hawk circling right above it?”

“I think that’s a blackbird,” I said.  It appeared charcoal from beak to tail.

“Huh…”  He laughed for half a second.  “That’s one big blackbird!”

He gestured to an upcoming cluster of young evergreens growing tightly together on someone’s property.  “See the naked Christmas trees?”

Funny.  It made me smile.

“Oh look!”  I exclaimed, startled by my own unexpected exuberance.  “Puppies!”  I pointed at two young golden labs on leashes.  They seemed more interested in wrestling one another than being walked.

“I see, I see,” the man grinned. 

He continued on, pointing out things beyond our window that were exactly opposite of the gloomy and miserable picture I’d beheld earlier.  It amazed me the number of wonderful things he managed to find.  Before long, I was noticing pleasantries he missed as we drove along.

Realizing the gift he’d given me, I thanked him.  “I guess it’s not such a miserable day after all."

He pretended to take back his lenses and smiled wide.  “It’s all in the glasses.”

This short story is from the book, Making Wishes: Quotes, Thoughts, and a Little Poetry for Every Day of the Year

Copyright 2015 Richelle E. Goodrich

My Quote in an Oxford Textbook

May I share something truly neat that happened to me?

Okay......so, I recently received this Oxford textbook in the mail.  

It's a course companion for a philosophy class.  No, I'm not taking a class at Oxford (I wish) and neither are my sons (not yet anyway.)  I was actually aware the book would eventually be shipped to me—a free copy provided by the wonderful people who put it together—and I was oh so excited to receive it! 

The very first thing I did, of course, was open up the pages to chapter seven, entitled, 'Identity.'  Now why in the world would I rush to do that?  

Because my quote is printed 

on the first page introducing the chapter!

How cool is that?

Yes, I'm feeling pretty happy.  It’s kind of a neat thing to see my words printed in an Oxford textbook along with my website typed in a footnote (www.harrowbeth.com.)  And concluding the chapter, my name among references cited!    

Silly me to be so excited, but I am.  

Thanks for taking a moment to smile with me.